<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Terms of Engagement by enchantedteapot</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266002">Terms of Engagement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedteapot/pseuds/enchantedteapot'>enchantedteapot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Magic, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Humor, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Rose is a hugger, Slow Burn, Snark, The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Harry Potter), Tropes, Wizarding History (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:14:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedteapot/pseuds/enchantedteapot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley is on a mission to save one of Wizarding Britain’s most iconic historical sites. Scorpius Malfoy is on a mission to save himself. As workplace rivals, they’re more used to sabotaging than helping each other, but desperate times call for very desperate measures.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Viaducts & Vexations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N:  Well, I think it's about time for some more ScoRose to help ease us through the darkening days and looming second wave. I've wanted to write this plot-line for a while, but thought it might be a bit too ridiculous. Then I decided ridiculous fanfiction is exactly what the world needs more of right now! Hope you all enjoy and, as always, I love to hear from you!</p><p>Huge thanks to Arnel 63 for their brilliant beta work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose Weasley was having an absolutely atrocious day.</p><p>This, in itself, was not great cause for alarm, as Rose tended to find that any day on which she was required to attend her desk job at the Ministry could be considered fairly appalling. The remarkable thing about this particular occasion, however, was that it was still only ten past nine in the morning.</p><p>Hobbling across the Ministry Atrium – brandishing a broken-heeled left shoe, whilst a rather large coffee stain seeped slowly into her blouse – Rose squeezed herself into the next available lift, jostling three heavy case files under her arm, and turning just in time to be smacked squarely in the face by a particularly aggressive interdepartmental memo.</p><p>She rolled her eyes skyward, huffing her unruly fringe out of her eyes, and pointedly ignored the sympathetic smile from the middle-aged lift attendant for the duration of the ride down to Level Five – Department of International Magical Co-operation.</p><p>“Good morning, Rosie!”</p><p>“No, it really isn’t, Martin,” she snapped, staggering into their small, shared office and tossing her broken shoe and files onto a desk already littered with parchment.</p><p>Martin Creevey peered at her from behind a copy of that morning’s <em>Daily Prophet</em>. “Let me guess,” he started tentatively, “somebody tried to repair their own Floo again, didn’t they? I said you’d better get a man in —,”</p><p>“Yes, well, ‘a man’ costs more galleons than I’d care to part with.” Rose collapsed into her desk chair, rubbing at her bare foot with a wince. “And besides, I really thought I had it this time! I made it over to my Dad’s new place just fine last night, then I tried to Floo to work this morning and shot out sideways in some old lady’s living room. Poor thing got the fright of her life.”</p><p>Casting a quick and rather well-practiced <em>Reparo </em>on her broken shoe, Martin tutted, “One of these days, Rosie, you’re going to break more than just a heel —,”</p><p>“You make it sound as if I enjoy gallivanting about other people’s fireplaces!” she cried, finding she had to laugh as the only alternative was to break down in tears and it wasn’t even ten AM yet.</p><p>In reality, her dear colleague and co-habitant of the broom cupboard they jokingly called an office had a point. She ought to have had her Floo fixed weeks ago but she’d simply been too busy. Its current list of casualties – not counting her little adventure that morning – included her cousin Roxanne, who had been attempting to Floo home and found herself in a library in Leicester and her brother, Hugo, who had been summarily deposited on his head on her living room rug last week when he’d last popped in to check his sister was actually still alive. </p><p>Martin was probably right – she should just pay someone to come out and fix the bloody thing. But then her mum would find out somehow, like she always did, and offer to tutor her on elemental transportation charms, which Rose really didn’t have the time for either. Frankly, it was a no-win situation.</p><p>With a sigh, she turned her ire towards the chaos of parchment that was her desk, and made a valiant attempt to pay attention as Martin regaled her with the tale of last night’s dating disaster. She failed almost instantly for two reasons – the first: Martin had a thing for burly, monosyllabic Quidditch players, so it was never a particular surprise when they turned out to be terrible conversationalists. And secondly, she’d just spotted the familiar royal blue of an interdepartmental memo from the Ministry Treasury sitting in her in-tray.</p><p>Shoving her stack of files to one side, Rose hastily unfolded the letter, still twitching at the edges, and sat back with baited breath to read the long-awaited response:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Ms Weasley, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We regret to inform you that your recent application for funding has been declined. Whilst we agree that the renovation of Wizarding Britain’s historical sites is a worthy cause, we at the Treasury feel there are more pressing matters that require our attention and charity in the current economic climate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As this is the sixth request for funding that we have received from yourself in regards to this matter, we respectfully remind you of the annual limit to applications that we are able to receive from one individual. You have already exceeded this number by four - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, just like that, the memo went sailing into the rubbish bin. Honestly, it was a testament to her self-restraint the bloody thing hadn’t burst into flames.</p><p>She didn’t need to read the rest. After five previous and identical letters, she could practically recite the brutal words of rejection from the Ministry Treasury by heart. In fact, she thought crossly, she might as well just start writing them to herself, cut out the middle man entirely.</p><p>Rose let her head loll back against her desk chair with something akin to a growl of frustration. After weeks of hard work – her evenings devoted to pouring over blueprints and reconstruction spells, missing out on trips to the pub and even dinner most nights – she’d been foolish enough to hope for a different outcome. Hoping that instead of more diplomatic brush offs and patronising apologies, the Ministry Big-Wigs up on the first floor might have considered parting with a few lousy Knuts to support this latest cause.</p><p>The historic, architecturally astounding Glenfinnan Viaduct, that had once formed part of the journey for the Hogwarts Express, was crumbling to its very foundations. No longer necessary for travel – as students were now permitted to make their way to and from the school at the start and end of each term via a carefully regulated, closed-off Floo network – the railway line and its viaduct had become obsolete. The stonework of the colossal pillars and elegant arches had not been properly maintained for over ten years now, and the entire thing was at risk of collapse if the Ministry didn’t put some serious galleons and man-power into its timely restoration.</p><p>And, really, was it so much to ask? She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to startle Martin by screaming aloud in frustration. <em>She</em> was the one who’d already spent hours working on this project in her spare time – to the detriment of her social life, her healthy eating habits, not to mention her <em>actual </em>job. The case files she was supposed to have been working on these last few weeks were piling up thick and fast (the three currently weighting down her desk were just the tip of the iceberg), but she found the time anyway because she knew it was important, because it <em>mattered</em>.</p><p>With a great deal of reflection, Rose had eventually come to terms with her previous rejections. She could understand why there’d been limited support of her quest to resurrect the statue of Samson Wiblin: Runner Up in the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition of 1430. And there’d been nothing but general confusion when she’d campaigned for the re-institution of the flushing toilet entryways into the Ministry lobby, deemed an unhygienic way to commute since before she was born. But this time she’d been sure they would listen, that there would be interest in trying to save this amazing monument that had once allowed them all to pass safely through the wilds of Scotland. </p><p>Rose had fallen in love with the History of Magic (despite Professor Binns’ best efforts) from her very first year at Hogwarts. She’d been fascinated by the Founders, gripped by the tales of Uric the Oddball, and found the Giant Wars of 1911 to be utterly compelling. The fact that no one else seemed to share her passion for all things ancient was a source of constant dismay to her.</p><p>Even her own mother seemed to have limited enthusiasm, referring to Rose’s latest cause as ‘another of her pet projects’ – which, actually, Rose found a bit rich coming from a woman who spent the better part of her education trying to assault house elves with woollen hats.</p><p>Feeling a sudden flare of temper, Rose fished the crumpled memo out of the bin – wondering which prat with an abacus had been given the task of rejecting her this time. She hadn’t failed to notice that her applications were being handled by someone further and further down the food chain with each passing rejection, as if the higher ups had decided to wash their hands of her entirely. It was probably some lowly intern, fresh out of Hogwarts that she owed for this latest missive —</p><p>Or…<em> not</em>.</p><p>Rose stared at the elegant signature at the bottom of the letter, a wave of something that could only be described as a furious nausea threatening to overwhelm her.</p><p>Scorpius. Bloody. Malfoy.</p><p><em>Shiteing Salazar, </em>she seethed through clenched teeth. Not only had that absolute cretin managed to get himself promoted – to Assistant Deputy to Minister Finch-Fletchley, Head of the Ministry Treasury, or so his ridiculously long signature claimed – but he’d also been the one to refuse her application this time.</p><p>Oh, and she’d bet he’d done it with glee! Probably cackling to himself in that roomy corner office of his, sitting on his piles of galleons and rubbing his pasty hands together as he turned her down. <em>Not today, Weasley, better luck next time! </em>She could practically hear the smirk echoing down the Ministry corridors.</p><p>To call Scorpius Malfoy her ‘arch-nemesis’ seemed awfully childish and dramatic. It was also the greatest understatement of all time. It still baffled Rose that they had managed to make it through seven years of education together knowing little more than each other’s names. How one could live within the same castle as the personification of evil and not know about it was something she puzzled over regularly. </p><p>With something resembling a snarl, Rose bolted from her chair, startling poor Martin in the process who almost spilt his cup of Earl Grey all over his newspaper.</p><p>“Rosie, where are you going?! We’ve got briefings in ten —,”</p><p>“I need to see a man about a bridge!” she snapped, auburn curls flying as she tore out of the office and back towards the golden gates of the lifts: a woman on a mission. Because if Scorpius Malfoy thought that he could put her back in her box with one neatly written memo, then the slimy git was even more delusional than she gave him credit for.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>The slimy git – or, as he preferred to go by: Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy – was actually having a rather pleasant morning.</p><p>He’d rolled into work a little after nine, fortuitously bumping into his good friend and old dormmate, Jasper Nott, who just so happened to owe him ten galleons.</p><p>“I don’t get it,” Jasper had sulked, as Scorpius grinned and slipped his winnings into the inside pocket of his robes. “No way you could have known about that early collision! I swear you’ve got the league fixed somehow, Malfoy.”</p><p>Scorpius merely chuckled. “No fix, it’s just simple physics. Potter’s half the size of O’Hare, which means half the weight. The latter was never going to beat him to the Snitch, even without the broken arm.”</p><p>He’d bid a cheery, wealthier goodbye to his sullen friend who stepped out at Level 3: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophe’s, before enjoying the rest of the lift ride up alone. On the short walk to his airy corner office, he happened to notice that they’d hired a new secretary. This one seemed pretty and perky, and blushed furiously as he bid her a good morning, which he rather enjoyed. And finally, as he sank into the soft leather of his desk chair – polished brown leather to match the antique desk he’d recently had shipped in from Borgin &amp; Burkes – he found a piping hot caffeinated beverage already awaiting him, courtesy of his attentive personal secretary.</p><p>Oh, yes – he was having a very pleasant morning indeed. The only slight dampener on proceedings sat before him on the desk: yet another pile of funding applications to sort through.</p><p>He appraised the stack with a familiar grimace. This particular responsibility had landed in his lap courtesy of his recent promotion to Assistant Deputy. It was a step up the ladder, in the sense that he was now trusted to make such decisions on his own – which projects would receive the financial backing of the Ministry and how much gold to part with – and the job itself was a stepping stone, of course, to Deputy and Head of Department, then Minister beyond. It was just that, more than half the time, the applications he received for public funding were nothing short of utterly barmy.</p><p>Last week alone he’d turned down a variety of ridiculous appeals, including (but by no means limited to) a request for funds to open a spa retreat for werewolves in East Surrey, another for a research grant to study the effects of dipping bunions into Gillywater, and one from some old hag in Wiltshire who wanted the Ministry to pay for her kitchen extension. Needless to say, each had received a polite but firm refusal of funds from him.</p><p>Most days, reading through such a pile left him wondering about the general wizarding populace’s mental state, it really did.</p><p>As if on cue, Scorpius’ head jerked up at the sound of a scuffle coming from outside his office door and, a moment later – in a flurry of limbs and red hair – one such applicant came stumbling into the room, practically dragging one of the poor secretaries with her, who had evidently made a valiant attempt to stop her intruding.</p><p>“Malfoy,” came the familiar yell, “I want a word with you!”</p><p>Scorpius marvelled, as he always did, at the sheer volume of Rose Weasley. He wondered if the woman realised that she was, in fact,<em> indoors</em> and not out in the middle of the Quidditch bleachers…surrounded by Erumpents…whilst a hurricane raged around her.</p><p>His poor secretary tried to catch her breath, “I’m so sorry, Mr Malfoy, sir. I tried to tell her you were very busy and that she couldn’t just come in here without an appointment —,”</p><p>Scorpius smiled tightly and held up a hand to quieten them both. It worked on his secretary; Rose let out something that sounded suspiciously like a growl.</p><p>“Not to worry, Jemima. I have a few minutes before my first meeting, perhaps I might be able to assist Miss Weasley to calm down in that time.” He looked up at them both, innocently, taking private delight in the murderous crimson flush that soaked Rose’s cheeks.</p><p>He waited for his secretary to leave them alone before finally relenting to the shit-eating grin that had been eager to come out and play from the moment his old classmate had barged through the door.</p><p>In truth, this wasn’t an entirely uncommon occurrence. At least once a week they had some form of altercation – whether it was Rose marching in here to declare war over his latest insult to her sensibilities, or an impromptu sniping match if they bumped into one another in the hallways. He enjoyed the simple thrill of watching a lift door close in her face, of beating her to the last blueberry muffin in the lobby coffee shop. Once, in an interdepartmental meeting, he’d charmed one of the legs on her chair three inches shorter than the rest, and watched on in delight as she’d spent the next hour and a half swaying back and forth precariously.</p><p>It was hard to explain, but infuriating Rose Weasley had rapidly become one of the greatest joys of his adult life. He could only assume it was the physical distance between the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms that had prevented him from discovering this pastime during their adolescence. How on Earth he hadn’t noticed that one of his classmates was the human incarnation of a Hungarian Horntail would forever remain a mystery to him. The woman was as quick-tempered as she was insufferable. And, really, if she wasn’t always so quick to bite, so quick to bare her teeth at even the lightest of teasing, it wouldn’t be nearly half as fun. She practically brought it upon herself.</p><p>Grin widening, he relaxed back in his chair. “As ever, you make an entrance with both grace and decorum, Weasley. To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>Rose glared at him, hotly. “You know perfectly well why I’m here. I want my funding!”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” he chuckled, reaching for the top most file from that day’s stack of applications and pretending to peruse it. “Your little bridge project…Terribly sorry about that, but as I said in my memo, the Ministry has other priorities in this current economic climate and -,”</p><p>“That’s hippogriff shite and you know it, Malfoy! I bet you didn’t even read my proposal, did you? Just took one look at my name and sent the entire thing up in flames!”</p><p>“First of all, I believe that would constitute a rather serious fire hazard, considering your application was well over twenty pages long,” he drawled, tiredly. “And secondly, there was nothing personal about it, Weasley. Whilst you apparently struggle to maintain any degree of professionalism at work, it’s hardly in my interest to use my elevated position to carry out personal vendettas.” He pointedly reached a hand across the desk to straighten his shiny, brass name plate and fixed her with another grin. Rose simply rolled her eyes, acerbically. “I rejected your application because I didn’t feel it deserved the funds.”</p><p>“‘<em>Didn’t deserve the —'</em>,” Rose gawked at him. “You must be joking?! It’s a national monument, Malfoy! It’s a symbol of our nation’s past. Think of the hundreds of years’ worth of students – <em>us included!</em> – who took the Express over that viaduct, year in and year out. It has meaning! It has importance!”</p><p>He stared up at her, calmly, “I disagree. It’s nothing more than a crumbling structure in the middle of the Scottish wilderness. Frankly, it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen and somebody should tear the bloody thing down. It’s obsolete.”</p><p>“Obsolete?!”</p><p>He tilted his head to observe her, evidently amused. “Indeed. As in: useless, no longer required, to serve no functional purpose —,”</p><p>“I know what obsolete means, you arse!” she snarled, slamming her palms down on his desk and bringing her gaze – a caerulean sea’s worth of fire – level with his. Oh, he’d really unleashed the banshee now, he thought, gleefully.</p><p>“You know,” she continued, venomously, “I really don’t know why I expected an uncultured boggart like you to recognise that something might have <em>value, </em>other than in the form of cold, hard galleons, that is.”</p><p>“I’m confused,” he feigned, “weren’t you the one begging me for money, just moments ago?”</p><p>Rose let out another high-pitched growl of frustration and Scorpius frowned as he heard one of her work-appropriate shoes make contact with his bespoke mahogany desk. She fizzed with rage, raking a hand through her unruly mess of curls, and turned away to mutter a string of unkind expletives. He caught something about her upcoming plans to set his robes on fire and chuckled, darkly.</p><p>“Look, Weasley, do you want my advice?”</p><p>“Certainly not —,” she started.</p><p>“Stop wasting time on these little pet projects of yours and stick to your day job… Which reminds me,” an indulgent smirk crept up the side of his mouth, “have you managed to escape the dizzying heights of that broom cupboard you share yet? Got yourself a nice little corner office all of your own?”</p><p>That irked, he could tell – her shoulders stiffened and she glowered at him over her shoulder. He knew perfectly well that she hadn’t, of course. The Treasury had close links with the Department of International Magical Co-operation where Rose worked, and he was very aware that she’d recently been passed up for a similar promotion to his – losing out to Niall Finnigan, of all people. That layabout leprechaun could barely spell ‘work ethic’, never mind possess some of his own. What he did have, however, was an easy charisma and a close personal friendship with the Head of Department – and that, folks, is politics in action.</p><p>“My career prospects are of absolutely no concern to you,” she muttered, coldly. Scorpius could only imagine the sheer amount of will power she was exerting by not hexing him square in the face.</p><p>“I beg to differ,” he leant back in his chair, “you see, we have a pool running – myself and the other Assistant Deputies, that is – about whether you’ll ever manage to get yourself promoted. I’ve got twenty galleons on you taking an indefinite leave of absence due to mental hysteria before the year is out.”</p><p>“Enough!” Rose spun on her heel and levelled him with a glare so poisonous, Scorpius had to resist the urge to check his own pulse. His grin widened.</p><p>“Listen to me very carefully, Malfoy.” She advanced towards the desk slowly, her voice low and dripping with venom. He leant forward, eyebrow quirked in amusement, until there was only the stack of applications between them. “One of these days,” she continued, “everyone else here is going to realise what I’ve known for years now: that you’re nothing but a smarmy, stuck-up toe-rag, with no actual skills or qualities to speak of. And, when they do, I’m going to make sure I have a front-row seat as they escort you from this building and toss you out on your designer robe-wearing arse.”</p><p>Scorpius blinked up at her in mock offence. “Careful, Weasley. Any more talk of my arse and we’ll find ourselves sitting in a sexual harassment in the workplace seminar before the week is out.”</p><p>Rose stared at him for a beat longer before throwing up her hands in furious resignation, (almost certainly <em>not</em>) accidentally knocking over the stack of applications so that parchment flooded his desk. Scorpius frowned in annoyance, watching as she turned on her heel and stomped back towards the door</p><p>“This isn’t over, you know?” she seethed at him. “I will get my funding, even if I have to come here and yell at you every morning, until one or both of us dies!”</p><p>“Be my guest, Weasley. Do me a favour and try and make it within my actual office hours next time, yes?”</p><p>The door slammed so hard in its frame that his signed photo of the Wimbourne Wasps’ league winning team of 2009 fell off the wall.</p><p>Well, he thought to himself, that was… <em>bracing</em>. With a quick straighten of his tie and a sip of his coffee, he attempted to turn his attentions towards some actual work. He’d managed as much as re-stacking some of the discarded files, when another sharp knock at his door gave him pause.</p><p>“Weasley, if you’ve come back because you’ve thought of a better insult, you ought to know it’s really all in the timing —,”</p><p>His secretary, Jemima, poked her head around the door. He couldn’t fail to notice she looked a tad bedraggled from her earlier wrestling match with Rose.</p><p>“I’m so sorry to disturb you again, Mr Malfoy,” she dithered at the door. Scorpius watched her swallow nervously and sat up a little straighter in his chair. “It’s just…well, your parents are here. They say it’s rather urgent and that… err, that they’re here to discuss your birthday.”</p><p>And, suddenly, Rose Weasley wasn’t the only one with coffee all down their shirt.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>A little-known fact about Wizarding society was that when Cantankerous Nott – renowned author of <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em> and raving Pureblood supremacist looney – compiled his directory of those most ancient and worthy houses, he neglected to mention that his book’s title hid a second (and more problematic) meaning.</p><p>For, not only does the term relate to the number of families that could still boast an unsullied lineage of Pureblood wizards at the turn of the twentieth century, but it also hinted towards a most secretive and ancient bit of magic. A blood-oath, sworn by the ancestors of each of those houses, that should any heir reach the sacred age of twenty-eight years <em>unmarried</em>, they would be bound in betrothal to another descendant from within this exclusive circle.</p><p>Scorpius Malfoy frequently tried to forget this particular little titbit of history. But, as he glanced in horror from his nervous secretary to the calendar adorning the back of his office door, he was sharply reminded of one crucial thing: that he, himself, would turn twenty-eight in a mere six months. Or, to be exact: five months, twenty-nine days, fourteen hours and… six minutes.</p><p>But who’s counting.  </p><p>.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Parents & Proposals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Et voila! Our second chapter! I had hoped to get this out a little sooner, but then found myself totally consumed all week by the US election! Holy moly, what a ride! As a non-US observer, I found the whole race utterly fascinating (thank goodness for CNN!) and - not to get too political, because fanfiction really isn't the place for that - I just want to say congratulations!</p>
<p>Now, onto FAR more important matters! So, in case it wasn't entirely obvious from our opening chapter, this story is going to be trope-filled to the gills and, frankly, a little ridiculous. All the guilty pleasures! I love reading the comments and messages, so please do keep those coming.</p>
<p>Once again, ginormous thanks to Arnel 63 who worked her beta magic and turned this chapter around in a matter of HOURS.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Panic was not an emotion that Scorpius was accustomed to feeling. It made him feel out of control, which was something he strived absolutely never to be. Fortunately, very few things in life could have this effect on him: hippogriffs, of course, thanks to the terrifying stories his father used to tell him as a child; the thought of an unpressed trouser leg; and his parents, turning up unannounced in places they had no business being.</p>
<p>Scorpius swallowed nervously and tried not to succumb to the abject terror he was suddenly feeling, as Draco and Astoria Malfoy came sweeping into his office.  </p>
<p>“Scorpius, darling!” As ever, his mother looked radiant in a peacock blue ensemble. Entirely out of place, of course, within the austere confines of a Ministry office, but radiant all the same.</p>
<p>“Mother, what a, err, pleasant surprise,” he tried not to let his voice waiver as he endured her fussing hands, and wiped away the lingering lipstick print on his cheek. Behind her, he watched his father stifle a smirk and peer curiously at the framed photo of the Wimbourne Wasps which still lay where it fell on the floor.</p>
<p>“We haven’t seen you at the Manor for weeks,” Astoria lamented, situating herself elegantly on the little corner sofa and fixing her only son with a pout. “No Thursday night dinners, and you even missed your Aunt Daphne’s anniversary party last month. Your father and I do miss you so when we don’t get to see you regularly.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” his father arched an eyebrow, half-heartedly studying the collection of books on a nearby shelf and pretending not to care, “one might even get the impression that you’d been avoiding us.”</p>
<p>Scorpius cleared his throat and forced a thin smile. “Certainly not. It’s just been, well, such a busy time here, what with the new promotion and all —”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, for which we’re so proud of you,” his mother interrupted, “aren’t we, Draco?”</p>
<p>His father plucked a book off the shelf and studied its spine. “Emphatically, my dear.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Scorpius faltered, “so, you see, I find myself very tied up at the office of late.” He gestured lamely at the stack of parchment on the desk, still a chaotic pile thanks to Rose Weasley’s short temper and general lack of self-control.</p>
<p>“Be that as it may, my darling, I think you know why your father and I are here.” Astoria crossed her legs at the ankle, rearranging the folds of her expensive dress robes and fixing Scorpius with a small but apprehensive smile. “And that we have something rather important to discuss. Your birthday…”</p>
<p>“Is not for another six months!” Scorpius blurted, a hint of desperation in his voice that finally piqued his father’s interest.</p>
<p>“Scorpius,” the older man levelled him with a sincere stare, “we’ve spoken about this at great length and given you the time we agreed upon to find a suitable partner of your own choice. The blood-oath…” he paused, deftly flicking his wand towards the door behind him. Scorpius heard the click of the lock and felt the wave of a Silencing Charm sweep across the room.</p>
<p>Draco turned, offering his son his best apologetic grimace, which looked very much like all his other grimaces unless you knew what to look for. “The blood-oath will come into force on the eve of your twenty-eighth birthday. We’d hoped you may have found someone, that you’d have chosen to make the commitment of marriage of your own accord by now, but evidently that has not been the case.”</p>
<p>Scorpius felt himself stiffen, irrationally annoyed by his father’s words. As if this whole bloody mess was <em>his </em>fault, because he’d been too slow off the mark to throw in the towel and settle down. How about a little blame for their damnable racist ancestors? The ones who seemed to have an unhealthy enjoyment of weird rituals and blood-magic, and trapping future generations into binding and potentially dangerous marriage pacts? Perhaps we could spare a little of the chastising for them, he wondered, knuckles turning white as they gripped the edge of the desk.</p>
<p>As if sensing the growing tension between father and son, Astoria rose from her perch, brushing her hand along her husband’s arm in calming reassurance. “What your father is trying to say, Scorpius, is that we did not want this for you. It’s been centuries since any of the sacred Houses found themselves with an unmarried heir at this age. Your father and I were married by the time he turned twenty-four, with you on the way the very next year.”</p>
<p>Scorpius grimaced. No matter the urgency of the situation, no-one liked to be reminded that their parents had, at least once, shagged each other senseless.</p>
<p>“However, with your generation, well, things are different now. You’re all so driven, so ambitious. We understand you’ve had other priorities.” She smiled fondly at him. It did nothing to soothe the bile rising in his throat.</p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat. “The facts of the matter are this, Scorpius. Come the eve of your twenty-eighth birthday, if you remain unmarried you will be bound to another against your will. Neither you, nor your mother and I will have any control over that. The actual mechanics of the situation are unknown to anyone in living memory, but based on what we know of the ancient blood-magics, I cannot assume it will be anything simple or pleasant.”</p>
<p>Scorpius felt the eery chill of a cold sweat as it crept down the back of his neck. He swallowed thickly, feeling a passing sense of deja-vu, recalling the last time the three of them had a similar conversation. Scorpius had just turned seventeen then. His parents had sat him down in the Winter sitting room and unburdened themselves of this particular family secret. Back then, twenty-eight had seemed so very far away. Blood-oaths and marriage pacts hadn’t seemed something to be particularly concerned about. He felt rather foolish now, looking back.   </p>
<p>Scorpius sank into his desk chair, rubbing a hand at each of his temples, as if he might be able to dispel all of this like a bad migraine. His mother appeared at his side and he had to resist the urge to swat her away as she laid a hand on his shoulder. That sense of clawing, nauseating panic was building, squeezing his ribs together, making it difficult to breathe.</p>
<p>He gritted his teeth and looked up at his father, who was watching him with well disguised concern. “So, what happens now?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Draco sighed, resignedly, “as you know, we have a contingency plan in place. An arrangement, of sorts, with the Rosiers. You’ve always got on well with Evaline, and a match between our two families is unlikely to raise any eyebrows. Likewise, a sixth month engagement is fairly standard in our circles. You could be married before your birthday and avoid all of the potential…unpleasantness.”</p>
<p>Scorpius found he could taste blood in his mouth and realised he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. The worst thing about his father’s so-called plan, was that it made perfect sense. Evaline Rosier was a year or two younger than Scorpius but they’d known each other since childhood. She was one of the few people from ‘their circles’ that Scorpius actually enjoyed spending time with. She was a friend. He could easily imagine their future life together – polite, seemingly well-matched, and utterly miserable.</p>
<p>Scorpius felt the pit in his stomach fill with icy water. He felt his fingers begin to tremble and so he clenched them into fists beneath his desk, and looked up just in time to catch the looks of concern being exchanged over his head.</p>
<p>This was all just so…<em>unfair</em>! He wanted to whinge and rage like a petulant child. Like a particularly bad dream, he wanted desperately to believe that none of this was really happening, that the walls weren’t really closing in, that his free will wasn’t being ripped away from him by some ancient force, that his future wasn’t just evaporating like smoke in front of him to be replaced by some semblance of another life.</p>
<p>Gripped by a sudden and paralysing sense of…what was that? Fear? Denial? Or perhaps just his innate stubbornness, Scorpius realised he simply couldn’t let this happen. Not to him.</p>
<p>There had to be a way out. There <em>had</em> to be. And he would find it, he knew he could, he just needed to buy himself some time. And the best way he knew how to do that was to lie through his teeth.</p>
<p>“What if I <em>had</em> already found someone?” His head snapped up to stare wildly at his father.</p>
<p>Draco exchanged a look with his wife and frowned, “Found someone? As in…”</p>
<p>“As in romantically!” Scorpius jumped from his seat behind the desk, startling his mother in the process who blinked at him curiously.</p>
<p>“Scorpius, darling, are you saying you’re…<em>involved</em> with someone, presently?”</p>
<p>“That! Yes, exactly that!” Scorpius felt his heart leap into his throat. He had a whiff of potential freedom from all this blood-oath nonsense and he planned to sink his teeth into it and never let go. “I’m involved, very seriously, in fact… and I don’t think she’d appreciate me getting engaged to another woman right now, so perhaps we’ll just have to put a pin in all this for the moment and —”</p>
<p>“Scorpius,” his father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose and fixing him with an exasperated stare. “I don’t think you’re quite grasping the seriousness of the situation. If you are not <em>married </em>by the thirteenth of January, something is going to happen to you that none of us fully understand and that we cannot protect you from. Simply being ‘involved’ is not enough! And besides, you’re always <em>involved</em> with someone, sometimes several someones at once. It doesn’t mean anything.”</p>
<p>Scorpius frowned; he resented the implication.  </p>
<p>“But perhaps this is different?” Astoria piped up from beside Scorpius’ elbow, her expression hopeful. “Perhaps this witch is someone special, someone you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with?” The sheer delight on his mother’s face would have been cause for great concern to Scorpius, had he not been otherwise occupied at that moment trying to claw his way out of a very deep, dark hole.</p>
<p>His father, however, was clearly having none of it. “Are you asking us to believe that you are on the verge of proposing to a woman that we have never even heard of, let alone been introduced to?”</p>
<p>It had always irked Scorpius that his father could so clearly see straight through him. He suspected they were a little too similar in the personality stakes. And so, before he could stop himself, he retaliated: “Actually, father, we’re already engaged. In fact, I proposed to her last week. I was going to tell you both at dinner this Thursday.”</p>
<p>Scorpius levelled his father with a defiant stare, arms folding across his chest. His mother was exclaiming her delight, shrilly and at a volume that made Scorpius glad of the Silencing Charm on the room. He couldn’t entirely discern the words, but he caught something about how she couldn’t wait to send an owl to his Aunt Daphne and the singular charm of a Christmas wedding.</p>
<p>Draco arched a pale and sardonic eyebrow. “Is that so?” he drawled. “And the fact that we are learning about this mystery woman for the first time today is a mere coincidence, I suppose?”</p>
<p>Scorpius narrowed his eyes – grey glared back at grey. “Not at all, Father. It was her choice to keep the engagement private.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear,” Draco sniffed. “Sounds as though she may be embarrassed of you, my boy.”</p>
<p>“Wrong again,” Scorpius snapped, teeth grinding as he doubled down. “It’s just that she also happens to work for the Ministry; she didn’t want there to be any gossip.”</p>
<p>“She works here?”</p>
<p>“Yes! <em>Merlin! </em>That’s what I said, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>At that, his father’s face split into a wide and delighted smirk – it was almost a grin – and Scorpius instantly knew he’d made a mistake. “How fortunate, then, that we thought to visit today! You can take us to meet her immediately.”</p>
<p>Scorpius blanched. <em>Oh, bloody fuck.</em> “Wait – now, just hold on a minute. I…I don’t think that would —”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Astoria clapped her hands together, her eyes alight. “Oh, please, darling! Do take us to meet her. I can’t possibly wait another moment to meet my future daughter-in-law! You’ve kept her from us for so long already.”</p>
<p>“Quite so,” Draco didn’t miss a beat. “Really, Scorpius, you mustn’t disappoint your mother.”</p>
<p>Scorpius snarled at his father, whose smirk merely widened in triumph. “You can’t just… what I mean to say is… she’s really rather busy you see and —”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t be silly, Scorpius! I’m sure she’s just as curious about us and won’t mind one jot! I bet she’s one of those frightfully clever girls down in the Department of Mysteries, isn’t she?” His mother tugged excitedly on his elbow, already ushering him towards the office door. “Or maybe it’s that lovely young woman who served us coffee earlier? Didn’t I say she had such a delightful smile, Draco?”</p>
<p>“Indeed, you did, my love,” Draco nodded enthusiastically, stepping aside to open the door for them. Scorpius felt he was revelling in his only son’s discomfort rather too much and shot him another glare for good measure.</p>
<p>Allowing himself to be dragged out of the safe confines of his office, his mother chatting animatedly about his future wife and his father’s eyes on the back of his head – daring him to admit this was all nonsense – Scorpius swallowed thickly, and frantically tried to think of a way out of his current predicament. He couldn’t admit he was lying, because that would mean he’d be engaged to a woman he had no romantic interest in before the day was out. Equally, he could hardly present them with a fiancée because… well, because she didn’t exist.</p>
<p>Pulse pounding in his ears, Scorpius wet his lips, his gaze darting nervously as they headed back towards the lifts, the prying eyes of the secretarial pool eagerly following their path. What in the name of Circe was he going to do? He couldn’t conjure a fiancée out of thin air so what was his game plan here? Where was he even going?! <em>Buggering Hell</em>! To think he’d foolishly assumed his day couldn’t get any worse once he’d dispatched with Weasley, the raving lunatic…</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>And that’s when Scorpius Malfoy had one of the worst ideas he’d ever had in his life. </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Rose stared down at her damp shirt with a huff of resignation. After three attempts at <em>Evanesco</em> the wretched coffee stain had refused to budge, and so she’d resorted to try things the Muggle way and stomped off to the bathroom to blot the shirt clean.</p>
<p>This also had the additional benefit of providing her with an excuse to leave that morning’s case briefing session, where her recently appointed boss, Niall Finnigan, was currently holding court. Working under him was getting more tiresome by the day, she thought, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror, only to spot yet more soot stains on her forehead. Nobody liked being passed up for promotion, she knew this, but being overlooked for Finnigan – <em>of all people!</em> – rankled her more than she cared to admit. She couldn’t recall a single case the man had successfully closed without her help in the entire two years they’d worked together. He was all charm and no substance. Full of hot air and bravado, and that soft lilting accent made her want to stuff her ears with parchment.</p>
<p>The fact that he was also her ex-boyfriend probably didn’t help matters much either, she had to concede. But now was hardly the time to dredge all that up again.</p>
<p>Regardless, the last thing she needed was Scorpius bloody Malfoy rubbing it in her face. She was quite capable of enough self-flagellation to last a lifetime, without that smug-faced ghoul throwing in his two Knuts-worth. And as for his views on her viaduct – <em>well!</em> The man was as ignorant as he was intolerable. It was practically her civic duty to get her hands on those funds, and if it meant taking down Malfoy in the process, all the better.</p>
<p>Rose appraised herself once more in the mirror of the ladies’ lavatories. <em>Sweet Helga, </em>she was a mess! Her jaunt around the fireplaces of London’s senior citizens had done nothing for her hair, which was even more unruly and knotted than usual. She swept it into a low bun – rolling her eyes as several strands immediately rebuked her efforts by sticking out at various angles – and tried to hide the worst of the soot smudge with her fringe. The shirt was a lost cause. Maybe Martin kept a spare somewhere in the office. They were probably roughly the same size, which was a fairly depressing thought in and of itself.</p>
<p>With a sigh, she made for the door, still frowning down at the persistent coffee stain and feeling generally pre-occupied. Which would explain why she failed to spot the agitated young man who was striding towards her at pace, or the two people peering after him and sticking out like elegant sore thumbs in their very fine dress robes. In fact, the first she knew about any of it, she was being bundled backwards into the lavatories, her chin colliding with a shoulder, her feet nearly slipping from under her as she was manhandled over towards the sinks.</p>
<p>With a muffled yelp, she steadied herself against the porcelain and hurriedly tried to pull her wits about her. And when she did, she felt sure the world must have turned inside out.</p>
<p>“Malfoy!” she shouted, staring at him incredulously as he started moving between stalls, apparently checking to see if they were alone. “What in the name of Godric do you think you’re doing? This is the ladies’ loo! Have you entirely lost your mind?!”</p>
<p>Apparently satisfied that no one was about to leap out of a toilet bowl and surprise them, Malfoy turned on her, eyes wide and unusually fretful. “Weasley, I need your help.”</p>
<p>Rose blinked. “Well, that answers that question,” she muttered to herself, and started off in the direction of the door again. She’d barely made it three steps, however, before Malfoy was back in her peripheral vision, blocking her route with his excessively tall frame. Rose gritted her teeth and glared up at him – his height had always irritated her. She disliked that he was able to look down at her, even physically.</p>
<p>“Damn it, woman, just listen to me for once,” he sounded oddly out of breath. “This is a matter of life and death!”</p>
<p>That gave Rose pause. She looked at him properly then, taking a step back to fully appraise him, and noticed the sheen of sweat that graced his forehead, that the pallor of his skin looked even pastier than usual.</p>
<p>“Are you ill?” she frowned. “You look feverish. <em>Merlin</em>, it would be so typical of you to go and get yourself Dragon Pox or an Ague and run straight over here to try and infect me with it! Honestly, Malfoy, you’re completely —”</p>
<p>“I’m not ill!” Scorpius ran a hand over his face, clenching his jaw in frustration. “This is an emergency…of a more private nature,” he winced. “I need you to keep an open mind and…and just swear you’ll hear me out?”</p>
<p>Rose stared at him as if he’d grown an extra nostril in the middle of his forehead. She thought Malfoy was a twit at the best of times, but hadn’t realised he was quite such a raving lunatic. What possible emergency could require the two of them to take shelter in a public bathroom together, she couldn’t begin to imagine.</p>
<p>Rose folded her arms impatiently, “Make it quick, then, whatever it is. I have a full schedule today and it didn’t include committing genocide of my grey matter by talking to you twice in one morning.”</p>
<p>Scorpius frowned, but didn’t immediately retaliate.</p>
<p>Rose’s eyebrows inched towards her hairline. <em>Merlin, something really must be wrong,</em> she thought. She studied him more closely as he worked up the nerve to vocalise whatever he’d dragged her into the toilets to tell her. He was nervous, that much was obvious. Twitchy, even, and Malfoy was never twitchy. In all of their recent years of animosity, Rose had never known him to be anything but cool and composed. Even when they really went at it, she was always the one yelling and shouting. He would usually just stare at her with disdain and offer something snide. It was maddening beyond words.</p>
<p>Now, however, he looked…<em>spooked</em>. Desperate, even. Rose couldn’t for the life of her have said why, but it made her feel uneasy, too.</p>
<p>“I’m in trouble,” he spoke at last. Rose noticed that his voice was hoarse, like he needed a cool glass of water. “And I think you might be the only one that can help me.”</p>
<p>Rose stared at him for a long moment. “Right, that’s it. I’m taking you to St Mungo’s,” she declared with a huff. “You’ve clearly had some sort of head trauma in the last half hour, and I won’t have people claim that I didn’t at least try to find you medical attention —”</p>
<p>“Weasley, will you please just listen to me!” His hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder. Rose flinched at the contact; partly because she wasn’t accustomed to Malfoy touching her – in fact, she didn’t think that had ever happened before, unless you counted the numerous times he’d attempted to trip her in the hallway – and partly because his hand felt bizarrely warm through the fabric of her shirt. She’d always assumed he would be cold-blooded, like the reptile he was. It was something of a surprise.</p>
<p>Rose frowned up at him again, quickly assessing the anxious turn of his mouth, the draw between his eyebrows, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What’s going on?” she asked, cautiously.</p>
<p>“I don’t have much time to explain, and you’re just going to have to trust me on a few things,” he ignored her snort of disbelief, “but I have a proposal that I think might be…mutually beneficial.”</p>
<p>Rose arched an eyebrow. “Well, spit it out, Malfoy. Some of the other women in this department do have bladders, you know.”</p>
<p>“Right.” He glanced nervously towards the lavatory door. “I can get you your funding, all the galleons you need and more for your ridiculous bridge, but you’re going to have to do something for me in return.”</p>
<p>She eyed him warily. Underhanded tactics and back-door politics were rife in the Ministry – ‘Here, have a couple of tickets to the next Quidditch League game and look the other way as I push through my agenda’, that sort of thing. <em>You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.</em> Only, Rose didn’t like scratching other people’s backs – it made her own feel itchy.</p>
<p>“No deal.”</p>
<p>If it were possible, Scorpius paled even further. “You don’t even know what the deal is yet, Weasley!”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter! As if I’d want to trade professional favours with a man I can’t even trust not to pull out my chair! Look, are you sure you’re not ill? Only, I never had Dragon Pox as a child and it’s actually quite dangerous if you —”</p>
<p>“For the last time, I’m fine! Physically speaking, anyway. And besides, I’m not talking about professional favours,” he ran a hand through his hair leaving it uncharacteristically askew. “This is more of a, err, personal matter.”</p>
<p>Now it was Rose’s turn to look overtly startled. “Oh...” This conversation was starting to make her feel as though she’d stumbled into a parallel universe. “Like…what, precisely?” A universe in which Malfoy abducted her into the toilets to help him pick out a new curtain pattern or – <em>heaven forbid</em> – share hair-care tips and fashion advice.</p>
<p>Scorpius started fiddling with his shirt collar and cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Well, it’s really not that big of a deal, when you pare it back to the bones of the matter. Just a spot of blood-magic, the usual sort, you know – an ancient marriage pact, to be exact – nothing I can’t get myself out of, I’m sure, with a little time…” Rose’s eyes were widening into saucers as he rambled on. “Which is where you’d come in. I’d get you your Ministry backing for your little extra-curricular project and, in return, I just need you to let everyone think we’re engaged for the next six months. Simple, really.”</p>
<p>A heavy silence fell over the room. A leaky tap dripped rhythmically into a sink in the far corner.</p>
<p>Rose stared up at Scorpius in a mixture of alarm and incredulity. Scorpius swallowed thickly and tried to evenly return her gaze, pretending as if what he’d just put forward wasn’t the most ludicrous suggestion anyone had ever made. <em>Ever</em>. And that’s counting whoever first proposed the Triwizard Tournament; because why not actively encourage students to go up against live dragons, a sphinx and each other, all whilst neglecting their actual education?</p>
<p>“Have you gone completely stark raving mad?!” Rose could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed, at the man in front of her. “Engaged? To <em>you</em>?!”</p>
<p>To her amazement, Scorpius had the audacity to roll his eyes. “It’s only for six months, Weasley! And that’s only if I haven’t found a way out of my predicament before then. Besides, I can’t imagine you’re dating anyone right now, so I don’t see the issue?”</p>
<p>Rose was fairly certain her cheeks had turned an angry shade of scarlet. “That’s hardly the point, Malfoy! This is totally… I mean… is this a joke?” She gawked up at him, utterly at a loss for words.</p>
<p>He couldn’t be serious, she thought, <em>Surely</em>? The very idea brought her out in a cold sweat; to have people believe there was anything between them but unadulterated dislike. And who in their right mind would even believe it? She thought briefly of Martin who had, over the years, made several thinly veiled jokes about their mutual loathing stemming from some sort of unresolved sexual tension. Ridiculous, of course, and wholly unpalatable.</p>
<p>“I’m not suggesting we actually get married,” Malfoy hissed. They both pulled faces of disgust at the notion. “Just that we tell a few people that we’re engaged. It buys me the time I need to deal with all this blood-oath nonsense and you get exactly what you want out of it: cold, hard galleons. You can re-build the bloody viaduct, or build seventeen new ones, I don’t care. But I’ll get you the funds, and you know I’m the only one who can.”</p>
<p>That, unfortunately, had something of a ring of truth to it. Rose wrinkled her nose; she really didn’t like the connotation that she could be so easily bought, but she also couldn’t deny there was a small part of her that wanted to bite his hand off at the promise of a blank cheque to save her precious monument. It rankled against her sensibilities, her basic morals…<em>but </em>maybe some things were more important than being able to look oneself in the eye without blushing.</p>
<p>And it wasn’t as if the prospect of faking a relationship gave her any great cause for concern. She didn’t put much stock in the sanctity of love and marriage these days. That foolish notion had been well and truly cast aside thanks to her own romantic misfortunes, not to mention her parents’ situation… Not that any of that was relevant here, she reminded herself, sharply.</p>
<p>“Who would we need to tell?” she chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced up at him.</p>
<p>Scorpius’ eyebrows quirked towards his hairline – evidently, he had expected a little more outrage and indignation first. “My parents. Maybe one or two others, but just the bare minimum to stop the marital pact cogs from turning. I’m not exactly suggesting we host an engagement party.”</p>
<p>That didn’t sound <em>too </em>awful, Rose conceded, and then had to shake herself back to reality – this was insane! What on Earth was she thinking even entertaining this madness? And then, another thought occurred to her:</p>
<p>“Why me?” she frowned up at Scorpius, arms folding across her chest.</p>
<p>He looked very much as if he’d like nothing better than to bang his head against the tiled wall. “Because I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Weasley, I’m looking for a business partner! I need someone who I can work with, without it becoming messy and emotional. You hate me, I hate you, that hasn’t changed. But we can help each other, here. We have a unique situation.”</p>
<p>Rose didn’t feel remotely mollified. Her face must have demonstrated as much.</p>
<p>“Besides,” he flung a hand in her general direction, “you’re… well, you know, you’re intelligent and passably pretty in the right light, so I don’t think people will find it totally unbelievable that I’d be interested in you.”</p>
<p>Rose felt her eyes roll so far back into her head she was surprised she couldn’t see the inside of her skull. “Oh, wonderful: the forced flattery of a desperate man. Well, now I consider myself thoroughly wooed.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Weasley, don’t be a shrew! You know this is in both of our best interests! And I really don’t have time to keep persuading you of that, I need an answer, <em>now</em>.”</p>
<p>Again, Rose was struck by the desperation in his voice. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look so panic-stricken. It was really rather sobering, seeing another person so in distress – even if that person was Malfoy and part of her wanted to simply step back and revel in his misery. She reckoned she had the slimy toad so over a barrel, that he’d practically agree to anything to get her on side.</p>
<p>“I want carte blanche,” she said, suddenly, almost surprising herself.</p>
<p>Scorpius stared at her. “What?”</p>
<p>“Carte blanche,” Rose squared her shoulders. “You’re going to get me the money I need for Glenfinnan, and then you’re going to approve any project I choose for the next three years.”</p>
<p>“Three years?! Are you mad, Weasley, I can’t pull something like that —”</p>
<p>“Take it or leave it, Malfoy. I’m sure you’ve got a slew of other women you could ask to assist you with this matter…oh, wait…” she tipped her head, barely resisting the urge to sneer.</p>
<p>Scorpius grit his teeth. “Six months. That’s the best I can do.”</p>
<p>“Two years,”</p>
<p>“<em>One</em> year, final offer.”</p>
<p>Rose narrowed her eyes. “Fine. And, listen, Malfoy, this blood-magic stuff —”</p>
<p>But he shook his head quickly, silencing her concerns. “Not your problem, Weasley. Let me worry about that. You just need to play your part. Do we have a deal?”</p>
<p>He held out a hand to her. Rose stared down at it, not failing to notice the slight tremble with which he did so. And then she watched – as if she were floating somewhere outside of her own body – as she extended a hand of her own, and shook it.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Draco and Astoria Malfoy hovered concernedly outside of the door to the ladies’ lavatories on the fifth floor, through which their son had disappeared almost twenty minutes ago and had yet to reappear. Initially, they’d heard raised voices from inside, and Draco had wondered aloud if Scorpius was having some sort of psychotic break and yelling at his own reflection. A suggestion which his wife had not appreciated and told him as much.</p>
<p>A number of heads had begun to poke out of various offices, wondering what all of the fuss was about, and Draco had almost resolved to march in there and retrieve his quite-possibly-manic son, when the door in front of them swung open.</p>
<p>The Malfoys took a step back and stared at the image in front of them: their son looked pale, stressed, but determined. The young woman beside him looked hesitant, wary, and slightly befuddled. Draco thought she seemed oddly familiar.</p>
<p>“Mother, Father,” Scorpius cleared his throat, glancing down to where his hand was awkwardly entwined with the girl’s. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable about it. “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Rose Weasley.”</p>
<p>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Newspapers & Nuisances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, I am just delighted to discover that so many of you are a sucker for a guilty, trope-heavy fanfic like me! Who knew we were all harbouring this dirty secret? Plausible plot-lines? Who needs 'em! Give me that raw, unadulterated Rose/Scorpius nonsense any day of the week.</p>
<p>Well, here - have another helping! As always, I love to hear from you - let's revel in our sinful fanfic indulgence together!</p>
<p>Arnel 63 has outdone themself, yet again, as this story's much beleaguered beta. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine alone due to last minute fiddling!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose found herself wide awake at the witching hour, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what series of unfortunate events had led her to this moment.</p>
<p>She was engaged to Scorpius Malfoy – albeit for show – a man she loathed with almost every cell in her body. It was such an alien concept that she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it. And a harder time still trying to understand what in the name of Helga had possessed her to enter into such an absurd arrangement.</p>
<p>Maybe she was under the Imperious Curse, she wondered, idly. Somebody else could be controlling her mind and body and embroiling her in schemes that would undoubtedly be her downfall. But she dismissed the idea with a huff, tossing and turning beneath the sheets – surely, if someone else were in charge of her every thought, they’d have had the decency not to make her eat three-day-old leftovers for dinner. That, unfortunately, was concerningly typical.</p>
<p>Then, perhaps she was suffering from some kind of medical malady? In fact, this could be what it felt like to have a stroke. As if her brain had temporarily melted out of her ears, just in time for her to join forces with the world’s most arrogant sod in a desperate attempt to save his own skin, which was almost certainly never going to work and probably going to end horribly with them both being fired… or worse.</p>
<p>She groaned and rolled over, in a half-hearted attempt to smother herself with her own pillow. Such thoughts, she found, were not particularly conducive to a good night’s sleep.</p>
<p>If she’d been having doubts beforehand, the moment she’d found herself confronted with Malfoy’s parents, she’d felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to regurgitate her breakfast. Merlin, the way they’d <em>stared </em>at her! It had taken Astoria Malfoy almost a full ten seconds to remember her upbringing and for polite and well-mannered service to be resumed. She’d eventually burst into introductions, sweeping in to grab Rose by the hands, planting airy and fashionable kisses on both of her scarlet cheeks, and made a number of encouraging but unhelpful comments about her hair, her cheekbones and her posture.</p>
<p>Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had made no such effort to hide his surprise. Rose had stood awkwardly as he performed a calculated assessment of her with one pointed, icy stare, before turning to engage his son in a silent battle of wits. Rose was no stranger to these sorts of private, internal conversations, having shared a number of them with Hugo over the years whilst her parents waged war at the dinner table, and she’d received the message loud and clear: Draco Malfoy was thoroughly displeased.</p>
<p>The man hadn’t actually spoken a word to her until they were about to depart – Astoria having coaxed promises from her son that he would bring Rose to lunch at the weekend, and that the two lovebirds would soon decide on a date for their impending nuptials – at which point he had glanced back at Rose, his face a mask of impassivity, and reminded her that she had a rather large coffee stain down her front.</p>
<p>Charming.</p>
<p>At least now she knew where Scorpius inherited his delightful disposition from, she’d thought, acerbically.</p>
<p>But now, surely, the worst part was over with. Malfoy had been very clear about keeping their new arrangement under wraps, telling only those who absolutely needed to know to make his little scheme work, and she was more than in agreement. In fact, that was about the only part of all this that made any sense at all. A few guest appearances at Malfoy Manor over the next six months and she’d be free and clear, with open access to the Ministry coffers to support whichever historical restoration projects she saw fit for a whole year. She really ought to start writing a list.</p>
<p>The real challenge, of course, would be to avoid hexing the living daylights out of Malfoy at any given moment. A difficult task indeed, given that she found herself itching towards her wand every time the git opened his mouth.</p>
<p>She flopped over with a sigh, dragging the duvet up and over her head, and made a mental note to stock up on extra strength Calming Draughts at the earliest opportunity.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Bloody, fucking, wanking bollocks. </em>What in the name of Salazar’s arsehole had he done?</p>
<p>Scorpius, too, found himself awake well into the unsociable hours. Sitting in the dark of his office after hours, he let the events of the day wash over him in unsettling waves, already half a bottle of Ogden’s down and filled with regret.</p>
<p>It had been a knee-jerk reaction, he knew that; his survival instincts kicking in in the heat of the moment. He’d read somewhere that a part of the brain called the amygdala was responsible for the fear response, the fight-or-flight reaction. Well, he’d very much like to know what the Hell his amygdala thought it was doing sending him running straight to Rose bloody Weasley.</p>
<p>He flopped back against the corner sofa, letting out a very undignified groan and narrowly resisting the urge to curl into the foetal position. Even now, in the relative calm of the aftermath of the day, he struggled to think of who else he could have turned to in this… very particular situation. She was, after all, the only woman he knew who would probably rather feed herself to a rabid hippogriff then harbour any romantic feelings towards him – an odd trait that made her uniquely suitable for the role of his temporary fiancée. Plus, he had something she wanted, something to trade.</p>
<p>And they’d overcome their first hurdle with limited casualties. His mother, at least, had seemed appeased after the initial shock of introductions. He’d even heard her discussing a sudden fondness for freckles, as he finally managed to put his parents into one of the Atrium fireplaces and thrown an entire bag of Floo powder in after them. His father, however – now, that was another matter entirely. Scorpius had seen the look he’d given Rose, the micro-expressions that he’d only learnt to notice after more than two decades of studying the man. Confusion, disbelief, annoyance, concern… and, oddly, <em>fear</em>. Maybe Weasley’s reputation preceded her, and his father knew all about her diabolical temper. Perhaps he feared the loss of his quiet and secluded life in the country, when presented with a human banshee for a future daughter-in-law.</p>
<p>Scorpius allowed himself a sardonic snort into his glass.</p>
<p>Of course, even if they did manage to get his father on side, there were a myriad of other ways that this could all go horribly, horribly wrong. Weasley was a loose cannon at best, nightmarishly obstinate when she wanted to be. Hardly an amiable silent partner. There was also the question of what to do if he was unable to find a way out of the blood-oath in time. He was a diligent study, especially when it came to his own self-serving interests (there was good reason for his quick rise through the ranks here at the Ministry), but he doubted it’d be as simple as finding the right book in the Manor library – <em>Classic Blood-Oaths and How to Break ‘Em! An idiots guide 101 </em>– although given the things he’d stumbled upon in his ancestral home in the past, he wouldn’t be surprised</p>
<p>He reached for the open bottle of firewhisky, dragging a hand through his hair and across his tired eyes. Maybe everything would be fine. Maybe he had nothing to worry about at all. Maybe this hare-brained scheme of his would actually work, if he and Weasley could just refrain from murdering each other long enough to pull it off.</p>
<p>Stranger things had most certainly happened.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>But sadly, even the best laid plans often go awry, and this was far from being one of those.</p>
<p>Rose was spared the full horror of the unfolding situation for approximately the next five hours, as she slept fitfully between clammy sheets. It was only when persistent daylight dragged her from her bed and down the hallway in search of caffeine, that she was given her first inkling that something might be wrong.</p>
<p>Six different owls were waiting patiently on her kitchen windowsill.</p>
<p>One she recognised as belonging to the Falmouth Falcons team, and was carrying a letter that was undoubtedly from her cousin, Albus. Another was Shakespeare – her brother’s tawny owl that her mother had insisted on naming – and a third carried the official Hogwarts emblem on its leather letter holder. The other three were postal owls from Merlin-only-knew-where but, perhaps most importantly, five out of six of them where brandishing bright red Howlers.</p>
<p>Rather reluctantly, Rose opened the window and ducked – letting all six of them deposit their cargo on her kitchen floor before taking off again. All except Shakespeare, who remained resolutely on the back of a kitchen chair, clearly expecting a treat despite the imminent unpleasantness he’d just helped to deliver.</p>
<p>The first Howler exploded before she’d even had time to shoo the bird back out the kitchen window. Albus’ voice bounced between her kitchen walls, loud and unusually shrill. She could just make out the sound of the wind and referee’s whistle in the background, as if he’d written it in the middle of a Quidditch match.</p>
<p>It wouldn’t surprise her.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Rosie Weasley! Why in the name of Godric’s knackers am I reading about my favourite cousin’s engagement over my morning fry-up?!”</em>
</p>
<p>Rose spat the first mouthful of her morning coffee out through her nose.</p>
<p><em>“I can’t believe that I’m finding out like this – from that muck-rag </em>The Prophet, <em>no less! Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve already had an owl from Lily, and she says she didn’t know anything about it either. What on Earth’s going on?”</em></p>
<p>Rose was suddenly hyperventilating, barely even listening to Albus’ continual outrage as she darted to the floor, scrambling through the pile of Howlers until she landed on her own copy of <em>The Daily Prophet</em> delivered that morning.</p>
<p>
  <em>“And to Malfoy?! Really? You know I shared a dorm with that tosser for seven years, right? The man irons his boxer shorts, for Salazar’s sake —”</em>
</p>
<p>She yanked at the brown string with uncoordinated fingers, smudging the fresh ink in her haste to unroll the newspaper. And there it was in a big, bold, permanent headline. Right on the front page, too. How marvellous.</p>
<p>
  <strong>MALFOY HEIR TO WED DAUGHTER OF THE GOLDEN TRIO.</strong>
</p>
<p>A smaller by-line declared: <em>Christmas union set to bring an end to generations of animosity. </em><br/>Whilst an even smaller one added: <em>Lucius Malfoy reportedly turning in his grave.</em></p>
<p>Oh, Sweet Helga! Rose slunk down with her back against the kitchen cabinets. This was… This was an astronomical catastrophe. So much for keeping their little arrangement under wraps, now the entirety of Wizarding Britain could read about it over their morning Pixie Puffs. She stared down at the front page of the paper – <em>Shiteing Salazar, </em>there were photographs, too. Evidently, they’d been unable to find a photo of her and Malfoy together because, well, because she was quite sure no such photograph existed. So, instead, they’d worked with what they <em>did</em> have – which was an image of Malfoy at a Ministry shindig looking annoyingly well put together, next to Rose’s official Hogwarts graduation photo. <em>Merlin</em>, she still had her braces in that picture! (Her maternal grandparents had been oddly particular about not letting either Hugo or herself use magic to fix their various orthodontal problems, much to the dismay of her teenage ego.)</p>
<p>A second Howler suddenly burst into life, startling Rose who had just been considering the practicalities of disappearing into the Auror Witness Protection Programme. This one was apparently from Dominique and was entirely in French. Rose didn’t even speak French, but she deduced from the general tone and ear-piercing volume that her cousin was rather royally pissed off about something.</p>
<p>Hurriedly picking herself up from the floor, Rose stumbled towards the back bedroom of her little flat – Albus and Dominique’s Howlers bobbing along behind her and screeching at the top of their papery lungs – and started rummaging through the contents of a cardboard box in the bottom of her wardrobe. With a cry of relief, she pulled out her old Herbology earmuffs, quickly cramming them over her head just as a third Howler came hurtling through from the kitchen. She didn’t much fancy listening to a rant from every single member of her family this early in the morning, and the contents of the Howler with the Hogwarts letter-head were definitely best left unheard. Her mother had never been one to pull her punches with the written word.  </p>
<p>And so that is how Rose ate her breakfast and dressed for work that morning – doing her very best to ignore the hissing, spitting Howlers that hovered in her peripheral vision as she brushed her teeth with her earmuffs on – all the while plotting the imminent demise of one Scorpius Malfoy and wondering how many of her family members she could safely Obliviate before lunchtime.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>Work, it turned out, was an equally unsafe space.</p>
<p>No sooner had she stepped out of the Floo into the Ministry Atrium – thankfully without the detour through dear old Doris’ sitting room this time – she was set upon by a small crowd of waiting journalists. None of whom, apparently, had grasped the definition of personal space.</p>
<p>“Rose!” <em>“Rosie!”</em> “Have you and the young Mr Malfoy set a date yet?” <em>“When did you first know he was the bloke for you?”</em> “How do your parents feel about you consorting with the spawn of Death Eaters?” <em>“Give us a smile, pretty girl!”</em></p>
<p>A camera flashed directly in her face and she stumbled, startled, towards the nearest waiting lift, the hordes hot on her tail. She slipped and tripped as she hurried over the marble floor, holding her own copy of that morning’s <em>Prophet </em>to hide her face (she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d brought it with her, possibly to beat Malfoy into a vegetative state with), and felt her heart swell with gratitude as someone caught the lift door and held it open for her.</p>
<p>She slipped inside, taking a moment to catch her breath, before she turned to the only other lift occupant, feeling her thank-yous stall on her tongue.</p>
<p>“Morning, Weasley,” Jasper Nott nodded at her, before turning back to the sports pages with a small smile.</p>
<p>Rose stared at him for a moment before remembering herself. “Err, ‘morning. And… thanks.”</p>
<p>She was quite sure that Jasper Nott had never spoken to her before in either of their shared existences. In fact, she couldn’t have confidently said he even knew who she was until today. She supposed it helped that there was currently a giant and rather unflattering photo of herself in his morning paper. Still, odd all the same.</p>
<p>The lift doors opened at level three and Jasper stepped out, offering her another friendly nod and a mumbled, “Have a good day, Weasley,” which made her eyebrows knit together in surprise. </p>
<p>Rose was still pondering over Nott and his sudden bout of civility as she arrived at her own floor and headed down the hallway to her office. She was very aware of the number of interested stares she received from those she passed, not to mention the odd head poking up over cubicle partitions as she scurried by the junior bull pen. She turned the corner quickly, the relative safety of her office in sight when:</p>
<p>“Psst, Weasley!”</p>
<p>Rose practically jumped out of her skin, flinging herself against the opposing wall and dropping a rather heavy case file onto her foot for good measure. With a scowl, she turned to find Malfoy’s head peeking out of the ladies’ lavatories, eyes wide and beckoning her over like a madman.</p>
<p>“Quickly!” he hissed at her, casting a furtive glance along the empty corridor, and opening the door just enough for her to squeeze in beside him, which she did with a very reluctant huff.</p>
<p>Rose glared up at him. “You know,” she muttered, crossly, “you’re going to get yourself a reputation if you keep hanging around in women’s toilets. How long have you even been in here?”</p>
<p>He sneered half-heartedly at her. “Well, perhaps I wouldn’t have to wait in hiding for you, if you didn’t still share an office —”</p>
<p>“Oh, not this again.”</p>
<p>“— Besides, I put a rather serious Repelling Charm on the door. Any woman for whom nature calls right now will suddenly develop a strong urge to visit the bathrooms in the sandwich shop across the road.” He offered her a smug smirk, evidently rather impressed with himself.</p>
<p>Rose merely rolled her eyes. “Right, well, if you’re done patting yourself on the back for that bit of second year magic, you can tell me what on Earth you think you’re playing at with <em>this</em>!” She slapped her copy of <em>The Daily Prophet </em>squarely into his chest.</p>
<p>Scorpius snatched it from her but merely grimaced. “I’ve seen it too, Weasley. Barely made it through the Atrium alive, in fact, thanks to that pack of absolute hyenas down there.” He clocked her expression and his eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”</p>
<p>“Well, of course I do!” she snapped, hands unconsciously coming to rest on her hips, in a rather fine imitation of her mother. “Besides you, me, and your parents, no one else even knew about this until today! I should’ve known you couldn’t be trusted, even when it’s your own neck on the line. Really, Malfoy, doesn’t it ever get tiring being so endlessly disappointing?”</p>
<p>“I suspect it requires far less exertion than for you to be such a sanctimonious harpy,” he muttered, witheringly. “And, for the record, I didn’t leak the story. The fact that I’m supposedly engaged to a woman with all the enchantments of an embittered troll is not something I was keen on sharing with the whole entire world.”</p>
<p>Rose growled; Malfoy sneered. Martha Clearwater approached the toilet door and found herself suddenly craving a mid-morning sandwich. </p>
<p>Scorpius gave in first and huffed his frustrations through flared nostrils. “Actually, <em>this</em>…” he held up the newspaper with a grimace, “has my Aunt Daphne written all over it. I suspect my mother may not have fully impressed upon her our desire to keep our relationship out of the public eye.”</p>
<p>“I’d say evidently not,” Rose ground her teeth together. “Well, your dearest Aunt Daphne has really rather buggered this up for us, hasn’t she?”</p>
<p>“Look, she means well —” Scorpius started, then wondered why he was bothering to defend the woman who had been nought but a nuisance his whole entire life. “It’s an unfortunate development, certainly, but —”</p>
<p>“No, buts! This is not what we agreed upon, Malfoy. Privately pretending to be your dearly beloved to one or two people is one thing, having my personal business splashed across the morning papers is entirely another! Everyone we know will have seen this! <em>Merlin</em>, my family…” she trailed off, looking slightly unhinged.  </p>
<p>Scorpius surveyed her with a grimace. He wasn’t generally accustomed to having to think about the wider consequences of his actions. He didn’t know much about the rest of Rose’s family – in fact, he’d done a rather splendid job of keeping out of their way as much as possible during their youth – but he did know there was an awful lot of them, and that they were reportedly a rather tight-knit bunch. Probably not the sort that liked to learn about the engagement of one of their own through a headline-grabbing article. </p>
<p>“It certainly changes the playing field, somewhat,” he conceded, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. He glanced at Rose – she was miles away, lost in thought and worrying her bottom lip excessively. It made him feel immensely uncomfortable. “Look,” he muttered, “you’re…right. This isn’t what we agreed to. If you want to back out —”</p>
<p>Rose’s gaze zeroed in on him, her expression hardening. “A bit late to start dusting off your moral compass, don’t you think? <em>You</em> do not get to be the reasonable one in this partnership, Malfoy.”</p>
<p>Scorpius frowned. “I wasn’t —”</p>
<p>“Not that it matters. I mean, I can hardly explain my way out of <em>this</em>, can I?” she snapped, yanking the newspaper out of his grip to glare down at the unfortunate photo of herself. Below it, the caption read: <em>The future Mrs Malfoy.</em> She groaned, audibly. “I don’t know what people would find more implausible – that I’d actually fallen in love with you or that I’d agreed to fake our engagement in order to save a crumbling and forgotten old viaduct.”</p>
<p>Scorpius scoffed into his hand. “Yes,” he muttered, unable to resist a crooked grin. “When you put it like that, it does sound rather ridiculous.”</p>
<p>Rose laughed in spite of herself. She laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, that she’d had to eat her breakfast wearing earmuffs, that they’d seemingly chosen the ladies toilets as their unofficial clubhouse. And what an odd club they were, indeed. Rather exclusive in its membership; the only apparent criteria being that you had to make terrible decisions and be a little stark raving mad.</p>
<p>Scorpius cleared his throat, then, glancing at a rather shiny wristwatch that peeked out from his robe-sleeve. “Given that we’re taking things public, so to speak, perhaps we ought to meet later and discuss our strategy?”</p>
<p>Rose nodded, with a sigh, “Definitely. As much as it pains me to spend more time with you than is strictly necessary, I do think we need to set some ground rules. Finalise the… terms of this engagement, if you will.”</p>
<p>“Fine. We can meet after work, I’ll come to your office. At least, that way, no one important is likely to disturb us.”</p>
<p>“Hilarious, really,” she sneered. “I’m leaving first. You should hide in here for another ten minutes. I don’t think the workplace gossips could survive seeing us emerge from the toilets together this early in the morning.”</p>
<p>Scorpius grimaced at the notion but rather had to agree. The last thing either of them needed was for tomorrow’s headline to read SPOTTED: MALFOY AND WEASLEY SHAGGING IN PUBLIC LOO. He’d given his poor parents quite enough of a shock for one week, already. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>From that moment on, Rose’s day had become something of a test of her self-restraint. If she’d thought putting a few floors between Malfoy and herself would do anything for her nerves, she’d clearly forgotten that the rest of the world – or, at least, anybody who read, or knew someone else who read <em>The Daily Prophet </em>– was also now privy to her personal business.</p>
<p>Martin had been, predictably smug, and excitable. Once she’d <em>finally </em>made it all the way into their shared office, he’d accosted her with the newspaper article, his numerous questions, and an insurmountable amount of Earl Grey tea. Of course, he claimed, he’d known all along that there was something between Scorpius and herself – <em>“Nobody gets that annoyed by someone without secretly wanting to rip their trousers off!” </em>– and had then proceeded to list Malfoy’s top ten physical attributes in reverse order. Rose had been forced to literally Silence him somewhere around number six – <em>“His aristocratic nose!” </em>– as she’d begun to seriously debate the use of an Unforgiveable Curse on a work colleague.</p>
<p>Luckily, she had rather a lot of actual work to do, and so she’d stuck her head into her currently active case files and tried to ignore the various whispers and curious stares that seemed to emanate from every corner. Whenever she stepped out of her office, the entire department seemed to fall quiet; Martha Clearwater had practically walked headfirst into a wall as she passed Rose on the way back from buying an oddly early sandwich. And Niall Finnigan had walked past her office door eight times (which was eight times more than he normally did), without ever actually coming in to speak to her.</p>
<p>By the time the working day was over, and the office had started to clear out, Rose felt utterly exhausted. She hadn’t managed to eat lunch, mostly due to a fear of who she might bump into in the cafeteria, and she wanted nothing more than to slink away home and melt into a hot bath. Either that or Apparate herself into the middle of the North Sea and never be heard from again.</p>
<p>But she waited for Malfoy, as all the other lights in the department flickered off one by one, and her little office was the only one still occupied. She checked the clock on the wall as the hands ticked by, trying to keep her focus on the parchment in front of her, but feeling her eyelids drooping, her head slowly lilting, until the welcome oblivion of sleep felt just within her reach…</p>
<p>A sharp knock on her door jolted her back to the living world.  </p>
<p>“<em>Finally</em>, Malfoy. Remind me to add ‘poor at time keeping’ to my ever-growing list of reasons I ha—”</p>
<p>“Hello, Rosie.”</p>
<p>Rose started, spinning round in her chair to find Niall Finnigan standing in her open office doorway, hands stuck in his pockets and a sheepish smile on his face. Rose stood, awkwardly, wiping away the drool that had started to accumulate at the corner of her mouth and feeling a sudden and peculiar urge to fix her hair.</p>
<p>“Niall,” she cleared her throat, “sorry, I err, I thought you were someone else.”</p>
<p>He frowned slightly, light hazel eyes darkening. “Scorpius, right? I saw the papers today…” he glanced awkwardly around the room. “I have to say, I was pretty surprised.”</p>
<p>Rose swallowed thickly. In the eight months since their on-again-off-again relationship had abruptly ended, she had made it a priority to keep as much distance between herself and Finnigan as was humanly possible, all whilst working directly under him in the same damned department. If she hadn’t, she was afraid the anger and irritation she felt towards him would revert back into her previous hurt. And she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime, thanks to him. It was an unspoken agreement that seemed to suit Finnigan also, as he barely paid her a moment’s notice most days. </p>
<p>Apparently not today, however.</p>
<p>He took another step inside the office and nodded towards her. “No ring yet, I see. Did he not propose with one?”</p>
<p> “Oh,” Rose blushed, self-consciously tucking her hands behind her back. “No, of course he did. I just, err, haven’t got it on at the moment.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“It… wasn’t the right fit.”</p>
<p>“Sounds a bit ominous, don’t you think?” he arched an eyebrow and grinned in a way that Rose supposed was meant to seem good-natured. She didn’t return it. “Listen, Rosie —”</p>
<p>“I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t call me that, anymore,” she stuck her chin in the air, hoping he hadn’t noticed the little waiver in her voice. “It’s just…not very professional. You are my boss now, after all.”</p>
<p>Niall blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Right. Sorry… <em>Rose</em>.” He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. It looked a little dishevelled, but Rose happened to know he styled it that way on purpose. “I suppose I just wanted to say congratulations…but also…” He frowned again, seemingly at war with himself, before glancing over his shoulder and pushing the door shut behind him. Rose stiffened as he moved towards her, torn between standing her ground and cramming herself back against the shelves to maintain the space between them.</p>
<p>“Niall —” she started, warningly.</p>
<p>“Look, I just…hearing about you and Malfoy, it made me realise that we’ve never properly talked about what happened with us. And, honestly, these last few months have been —”</p>
<p>“We talked plenty,” Rose snapped, willing herself to keep her carefully maintained walls up, not to acknowledge the tiny flicker of feeling that licked against the inside of her ribcage. “And quite loudly, as I recall, several times. But honestly, Niall, there’s only so many ways you can spin getting caught shagging another woman before it all starts to bleed into one.”</p>
<p>He looked suitably abashed at that, colour staining his cheeks as he reached out a hand to her. Rose flinched away from it. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am —”</p>
<p>“I’m not interested, Niall. Really.”</p>
<p>“If you’d just let me explain, for once!” he threw up his hands in irritation. Rose became acutely aware that they were very much alone here and that he currently stood directly between her and the only exit route. She couldn’t imagine he’d ever do anything to physically hurt her, but it certainly made her feel uneasy.</p>
<p>“And Malfoy? Seriously?” he was openly staring at her now, the cheerful façade having entirely faded away. “You used to hate the man, telling me night and day about what a twat he was!”</p>
<p>Rose winced. “I don’t think I ever called him that, exactly —”</p>
<p>“And now, all of a sudden, you’re <em>marrying </em>him? I mean…what the fuck, Rosie?”</p>
<p>Rose didn’t really have a suitable answer to that, not one that made any sense, anyway. Thankfully, she was spared from having to come up with one. A subtle movement over Finnigan’s shoulder caught her eye, and Rose felt a sweeping and unexpected sense of relief to see Scorpius standing in the now open doorway.</p>
<p>“Mal -, <em>Scorpius</em>!” she said loudly, plastering on a smile as Finnigan faltered, words dying in his throat as he turned to face the new arrival.</p>
<p>Rose watched as Malfoy slowly swept the scene with a carefully blank expression. His eyes locked with hers for the briefest of seconds.</p>
<p>“Sorry, darling, lost track of time. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”</p>
<p>It took her a moment to realise he was talking to her. “N-not at all! Niall, here, was just congratulating us on our…recent news.”</p>
<p>“How very kind of you, Finnigan,” Malfoy strode into the room, rooting himself beside her. Rose had to stop herself starting in surprise when he coiled an arm tightly around her waist, with such a natural and fluid movement, as if it were something he did all the time. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks as Niall stared at them.</p>
<p>“And the same to you,” Scorpius continued, “on your recent appointment to Assistant Deputy. I was disappointed for Rose, obviously, but at least it leaves her with a little more time to focus on the wedding plans.”</p>
<p>Rose smiled tightly, narrowly succeeding in biting her tongue.</p>
<p>“But, if you don’t mind, Finnigan, Rose and I have a few things to discuss… I believe she has a minute-by-minute itinerary for our honeymoon that she wishes to show me.”</p>
<p>For that, Malfoy received a quick jab between the ribs with her elbow. Luckily, Niall seemed not to have noticed. He had, however, turned an odd shade of maroon.</p>
<p>“Yes, err, right,” he spluttered, looking thoroughly flustered. He cleared his throat, edging back towards the door. “Well, congratulations again and… good to see you, Malfoy.” He glanced quickly at Rose. “I’ll, err, see you in the morning, then, Rosie.”</p>
<p>Malfoy watched him go, his arm still fastened around her waist until they heard the clang of the lift doors further down the corridor.</p>
<p>He turned to her and arched an eyebrow. “<em>Rosie</em>, is it?”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” she scowled, batting his arm away and stomping back to her desk chair.</p>
<p>“Is there something you need to tell me, <em>darling</em>?” he grinned in obvious amusement.</p>
<p>She shot him a glare. “Any history between Niall and I is none of your business, Malfoy,” she snapped, aimlessly shuffling parchment and trying to shake off the feeling of discomfort she’d had ever since Niall stepped into her office.</p>
<p>“A workplace romance?! Really, Weasley, I didn’t think you had it in you.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “Says the man I’m engaged to be wed to.”</p>
<p>“May I remind you,” he muttered, jovially, nudging a stack of files to one side so he could perch on the edge of her desk, “that this is all a charade. I’d be very interested, however, to hear more about your actual dating life, as it’s apparently quite sordid.”</p>
<p>Rose ground her teeth together and frowned up at him. “I’m tired, Malfoy, and I have no desire to feed you material you’d undoubtedly use to make fun of me forever more. Can we just get on with this? We’re meant to be outlining our…forward strategy, or whatever you want to call it.”</p>
<p>Scorpius eyed her with a smirk, but obviously decided not to push his luck. “Fine.” He rose from his perch, dragging Martin’s empty chair across the floor until he faced her across the desk. “All work and no play, as usual, I see. Let’s get down to it, then, Weasley.”    </p>
<p> </p>
<p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Does anyone else enjoy it when they say the title of the film/book in the actual film/book? ... Just me then, apparently.</p>
<p>Next time: Weasleys.</p>
<p>ET.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Family & Flatmates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: And here we are again: crawling ever deeper into our little trope cave, wallowing in the murky nonsense. The lovely tatapb described this story as a little like crack-fiction, and I don't think I've ever been so flattered. Well, pull up your socks cliche-lovers, because Chapter 4 is coming in hot.</p>
<p>Arnel 63 has once again astounded and amazed me with their hawked eyed beta skills. Who knew there were so many ways to misuse a comma?<br/>Any and all mistakes remaining are entirely my own, because I can't leave well enough alone.</p>
<p>And Happy Thanksgiving to our US friends! I don't have any yams to offer, but please accept these 6000+ words of Rose/Scorpius absurdity instead.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’ll be expected at Thursday night dinner at The Manor each week and lunch every alternate weekend.”</p>
<p>“Not going to happen. How about alternate Thursdays and…one weekend a month?”</p>
<p>“Alternate Thursdays and <em>two </em>weekends a month, and you have yourself a deal.”</p>
<p>Rose nodded her agreement and scribbled a note on the parchment in front of her. Scorpius rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. Only Weasley could take all the fun out of high stakes negotiations. She’d even made a checklist for Salazar’s sake. As negotiation tactics went, he supposed boring your opponent to death might actually be pretty effective. Several times he’d considered bowing to her every ridiculous whim, just so he might get out of this bloody office before the turn of the next millennia.</p>
<p>So far, they’d covered the unsavoury financial aspect of their arrangement, and Rose had been assured that she could expect a Treasury memo detailing her ‘successful application for funds’ first thing in the morning. They’d then outlined a sensible media strategy, where Scorpius – who had far more experience in dealing with the society-page sorts – had persuaded Rose that making a joint, formal statement would be in their best interests (<em>“Attack is the best form of defence, Weasley.”</em>). Rose hadn’t been particularly convinced that going toe-to-toe with the likes of the indomitable Rita Skeeter was the best form of anything, but had eventually acquiesced. And finally, they’d moved on to more crucial matters, including whether it was possible for Rose to scowl at him any less to at least create the illusion of affection, and what pet names were suitable for use when in public (Darling and dearest were acceptable; sweetheart in an absolute pinch).</p>
<p>“Next order of business –” Rose cast her eyes down her parchment, “– physical displays of affection. I suggest we avoid them completely.”</p>
<p>Scorpius snorted. “Agreed.”</p>
<p>Rose looked at him pointedly. “That means no more of…that. Whatever that was.” She gestured towards the middle of the room where, earlier in the evening, Scorpius had casually cosied up to her as they’d stared down Finnigan together.</p>
<p>He followed her waving hand and frowned. “<em>That</em> was me performing a subtle but highly effective rescue. You were looking rather flustered, <em>sweetheart</em>.”</p>
<p>Rose’s cheeks bloomed as she glared over her desk at him. “I wasn’t… I don’t get <em>flustered</em>. I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl. And I’m perfectly capable of dealing with Niall —”</p>
<p>“The word you are looking for, Weasley, is thank you,” he levelled her with a smirk. “And, you’re welcome.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes but bit her tongue, diverting her attentions back to her precious checklist. Scorpius noted the darkening stain of her cheeks and chuckled internally, watching as she squared her shoulders with a little shake of her curls – a behavioural tell that he’d witnessed before, when she wanted to move away from any sort of uncomfortable territory. If they hadn’t already been at this for hours (a quick glance at the clock reminded him they were approaching midnight), then he might have pressed the matter more. But he was tired and, besides, he could tease her over it another day.</p>
<p>“Where do we tell people we met?” she looked up at him after a moment of apparent self-soothing.</p>
<p>“We meet at work all the time,” he frowned.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I…” she sighed. “I mean, when did we first become romantically involved? People will want to know.”</p>
<p>“Will they?”</p>
<p>“Yes!”</p>
<p>“People ought to mind their own business.”</p>
<p>She huffed out a laugh at that. “Have you met people?” Her gaze landed pointedly on that morning’s <em>Daily Prophet</em>.</p>
<p>He groaned; he knew she was right, of course. “Oh, alright then. Let’s say…I saw you being mugged in the street and fought off your attacker. Impossible for you not to fall in love with me, really.”</p>
<p>Rose wrinkled her nose. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“If you say so. How about, you twisted your ankle at work and I carried you to St Mungo’s?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “No, Malfoy.”</p>
<p>“I found you lost in the Ministry archives one day and —"</p>
<p>“<em>No!</em>” she gagged. “I am not some ridiculous damsel in distress! And you, apparently, have an unjustly high opinion of yourself.”</p>
<p>“For the love of Merlin, woman,” he muttered, pushing back his chair in annoyance and stalking across the limited floor space. “You come up with something, then. And is there really nothing else to drink in this office besides a cauldron’s worth of Earl Grey tea?”</p>
<p>Rose scowled, but dragged herself over to the corner shelves, nudging an unsurprisingly dusty copy of <em>Belgian Wizarding Law and its Origins in the Franco Revolution </em>to one side, revealing a full bottle of Gillywater.</p>
<p>“I have to hide it from Creevey,” Rose answered Scorpius’ questioning glance, conjuring two glasses with a flick of her wand and handing him the bottle. “He went on a health kick this summer and has been judging me relentlessly.”</p>
<p>Scorpius chuckled and poured them both a pretty hefty measure, which he knocked back in one swift motion. Rose arched an eyebrow and sipped at hers more delicately as she re-took her seat.</p>
<p>“A blind date,” she muttered, making Scorpius pause as he re-filled his glass. “We were set up by an unnamed individual and the rest, as they say, is history. That’s what we tell people. It’s vague, doesn’t require undue explanation and is about the only feasible story I can come up with.”</p>
<p>Scorpius chewed it over for a minute and nodded. “Works for me. And the proposal?”</p>
<p>“Whatever you want to tell people,” she shrugged. “That part says more about you than it does me.”</p>
<p>He eyed her carefully for a moment, grazing a hand over his chin in thought. “We were at the British Museum – I’d arranged for a private viewing of their newest exhibition. I got down on one knee amidst the tapestries and treasure.”</p>
<p>Rose stared, blinking at him with the same look of general bewilderment as when he’d first proposed their unorthodox arrangement. Then she swallowed, clumsily, wheezing a little as the alcohol burnt her throat.</p>
<p>“What?” Scorpius arched an eyebrow. “You don’t like the idea?”</p>
<p>“Err, no. No, that’s not…” she cleared her throat and stared into her glass. “It’s actually…well, it sounds very nice.”</p>
<p>He huffed in amusement. “You seem surprised, Weasley. Do you think me incapable of properly romancing a woman?”</p>
<p>She allowed herself a little laugh of her own. “Not at all, Malfoy. In fact, your reputation for ‘romance’, as you put it, precedes you. I suppose I just suspected something a little more…gauche.”</p>
<p>“Such as?”</p>
<p>Rose shrugged, her mouth sliding into an impish grin. “Maybe Paris…on Valentine’s day…at the top of the Eiffel Tower, in front of a large crowd. You know, something subtle.”</p>
<p>Scorpius didn’t know what concerned him the most – quite how offended he was by her suggestion, or the fact that Weasley was apparently ribbing him. Was that something they did now? If so, she was worryingly good at it.</p>
<p>“Touché, Weasley,” he frowned. “That was actually quite funny.”</p>
<p>Rose snorted at his grave expression. “I’ve been told I have my moments. Now,” she muttered, reaching for her quill to make another little note on her parchment. “I’m going to need a ring.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Malfoy’s surprise was evident in the quirk of his eyebrows. “I didn’t have you down as the type of woman to lust after shiny things.”</p>
<p>She offered him a withering glare, although it lacked its usual venom. “I don’t care what it looks like. But Niall noticed I wasn’t wearing one and if we’re supposed to be engaged, it<em> is</em> tradition. The less cause for people to ask questions, the better.”</p>
<p>“How unlike Finnigan to be so observant…”</p>
<p>Rose didn’t bite, but she did glance up to eye him warily across the desk. “Do you think you can find one? I imagine it’s the sort of thing you might have lying around in the family vault somewhere?”</p>
<p>“Leave it to me,” he nodded. Certainly, finding a ring wouldn’t be any issue; there were any number of ancient and priceless treasures in the Malfoy vaults, deep in Gringotts’ entrails. Ensuring such a ring wasn’t tainted with some dark and nasty curse, however, was another matter entirely. But he would worry about that later. He had a much more pressing matter with which to piss her off, first.</p>
<p>“Actually, I have a discussion point to add to that little list of yours.” He leant across the desk, peering down at her mass of scribbles. Rose scowled and tugged it away from his prying eyes, as if he were attempting to cheat from her in an O.W.L. exam.</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>“Our living arrangements…”</p>
<p>Rose narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. “What about them?”</p>
<p>“Well, I think we should discuss them.”</p>
<p>“Why? I live in my flat, you live in your…I don’t know, haunted dungeon, or wherever. I see no issue.”</p>
<p>Scorpius offered her a dry smile. “I fear our friends with the cameras and the poisonous quills might think differently. We don’t live in the nineteenth century anymore; most couples engaged to be married have already learnt to share a roof over their heads, amongst other things.”</p>
<p>Rose, for her part, looked absolutely horrified with the idea. “You’ve got to be joking…” she paled. “We are categorically <em>not </em>moving in together.”</p>
<p>“I don’t relish the concept any more than you do, Weasley,” he muttered, darkly. “But I’ve thought it over and, since we’ve been outed, I think it’s an unavoidable countermove. Living together shows we are a united front and stops people asking questions when we show up to work separately. And, well, it also stops us having to have secret meetings in public toilets quite so often. We can have them in our own bathroom, instead.”</p>
<p>“<em>‘Our own —'</em>” she spluttered, cheeks almost as red as her curls. “Malfoy, do you even hear yourself? Think of what you’re proposing! We can barely stand to be in the same room as each other for the duration of a Quarterly meeting. Do you honestly think we could cohabit for more than ten minutes, without one of us ending up in a shallow grave and the other being carted off to Azkaban?!”</p>
<p>Scorpius huffed in exasperation; he had been expecting the push-back, of course. “I’m not saying it won’t be a challenge. But I think you’ll find my flat is spacious enough that —”</p>
<p>“<em>Your </em>flat?!”</p>
<p>“Well, yes,” he frowned. “I suspect it’s the larger of the two and far more tastefully decorated.”</p>
<p>“Is that right?!” Rose was glaring at him, open mouthed. “If you think for one minute that I’m going to be persuaded to move in with you <em>and</em> leave the comfort of my own home, then you really have lost your mind!”</p>
<p>Scorpius sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically. “Fine, your place it is. It’s hardly ideal but I’m sure I can make the best of it. Send me a memo with your Floo address and I’ll bring my things over after work tomorrow. I’m assuming you at least have a spare bedroom?”</p>
<p>Rose gawked at him, wildly. “Well, yes, but —"</p>
<p>“Good. That’s settled then.”</p>
<p>“Malfoy, wait! You can’t just —”</p>
<p>But he was already out of his chair, knocking back the dregs of his Gillywater and gathering his robes from the hook on the back of the office door. Rose could do nothing but stare at him in total bewilderment. It was turning out to be quite her expression of the week.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then, Weasley. I’m calling it for the night.” Scorpius nodded at her, adding with a final, self-satisfied smirk: “You know, you really ought to get some rest, too. Those bags under your eyes are starting to look like heavy luggage.”</p>
<p>By the time Rose had caught up enough to snarl at him, he was already halfway towards the lift doors, whistling a rather merry little tune as he went.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As promised, Rose found the royal blue interdepartmental memo waiting in her in-tray the following morning. It made no mention of Scorpius by name, but simply alerted her that a fairly sizeable sum had been set aside for her to use towards the restoration of the Glenfinnan Viaduct. Rose’s eyes had grown wide at the sheer number of zeroes – which was far more than she’d even requested in her initial application – before she quickly hid the letter in her top desk drawer. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she didn’t really feel like sharing her good news with Martin, even though her entire body thrummed with excitement at the prospect of getting started on all the necessary work.</p>
<p>She dithered a little too long over sending Scorpius her Floo address. She knew this because, by lunch time, he’d sent her another rather brusque memo informing her that if he hadn’t received her details by the close of day, he had no qualms coming down to her office in person, where he would undoubtedly make a scene. That or simply look up her address in the Ministry employee files. She had no idea how he intended to gain access to those, but she knew enough about Malfoy not to put anything past him.</p>
<p>The most annoying thing about his unilateral decision to start trespassing in her home, was that she knew he was right. That morning alone, Rose had spotted a number of journalists waiting on her front doorstep, as she’d reluctantly let in another fleet of Howler-wielding owls, evidently hoping to get a snap of the two of them together. She’d chanced using the Floo again just to avoid them, thankfully making it safely to work and not stumbling out into some unsuspecting soul’s living room. As things stood, she was sure they’d get caught out sooner or later and living apart was bound to raise eyebrows.</p>
<p>Better to be safe than sorry. Although she was sure she’d inevitably be very, very sorry she ever let Malfoy into her home…her safe space, her private sanctum. The very idea felt uncomfortably intimate.</p>
<p>Begrudgingly, she scratched her Floo address onto a scarlet red memo, watching it sail out of her office with a sigh of despair. A royal blue one returned less than five minutes later – causing Martin to swoon over the incorrect assumption that they were sending each other love letters – informing her that she could expect Malfoy at her place by eight o’ clock that evening.</p>
<p>Rose thought briefly about taking the Floo straight home to tidy, when the clock on her office wall eventually struck five. She decided against it though, as she resented the idea of doing anything to accommodate or impress Scorpius – if he insisted on moving into her home, he could deal with the mass of unwashed coffee mugs and laundry piles, too – and instead decided (because she was apparently a closet masochist), to use her final hours of freedom to visit her dad.</p>
<p>He had been conspicuously silent over the recent announcement that his only daughter was engaged to the human equivalent of a vomit flavoured Every Flavour Bean. None of the numerous Howlers had been from him, and he’d missed their weekly Floo call for the first time in as long as she could remember, which didn’t bode well.</p>
<p>Rose didn’t particularly relish the idea of having to discuss the matter with him face to face, but as the only alternative was ignoring him (and the rest of her family, by default) for the next six months, she didn’t see any other alternative. And so, with a brave face that she didn’t really have the courage to back up, she gathered her robes and satchel and headed down to the Atrium fireplaces.</p>
<p>Her dad had recently moved into the little flat above her Uncle George’s shop. Rose knew that her mum had offered for him to stay in the old family home – she was now at Hogwarts for ten months of the year, after all, as the newly appointed Headmistress – but her dad had refused. He said it felt too big, too empty, too depressing.</p>
<p>Rose found it hard to believe that anything could be more depressing than moving back into the same flat you’d lived in over thirty years ago after leaving Hogwarts, but did sort of understand where her dad was coming from. Still, the flat always made her feel…sad. Too much beige and not enough furniture. As if it wasn’t really a home, but a big cardboard box, just big enough for a single person to live in.</p>
<p>Like a recently divorced, fifty-four-year-old man, for example.</p>
<p>Tamping down her usual urge to cry whenever she dwelled too long on such matters, Rose squared her shoulders and stepped out of the fireplace into the flat’s small living room. A half-drunk mug of tea sat on the coffee table, besides an open copy of <em>Quidditch Digest. </em>No sign of <em>The</em> <em>Daily Prophet</em>, she noted, not knowing whether that was a good or bad omen.</p>
<p>“Dad?” she called out, surprised when she didn’t get an immediate response. She moved slowly into the hallway, passed the bathroom where only one toothbrush sat on the rim of the sink, and saw that he’d finally managed to hang some of the photos she’d sent him a few months ago. Most of them were of her and Hugo through the years, one of her dad and Harry in their old Auror robes, and a slightly faded one featuring so many red-heads that it could only be her dad and all of his siblings when they were younger. Her mum was notably absent from any of the chosen photographs. They’d separated amicably, but not <em>that </em>amicably, she supposed.</p>
<p>Rose paused, staring wistfully at a photo of her brother and her in Christmas jumpers that reached their knees, and realised she could hear hushed voices coming from the end of the hallway. She made her way towards the kitchen, frowning as the voices – three of them, she recognised – grew loud enough to discern.</p>
<p>“Have we considered the Imperious Curse?”</p>
<p>“Of course, we have! But I’ve checked with Harry and he says no Unforgiveables have been cast this side of London in the last six months. They keep a record of that stuff these days.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it’s blackmail, then? Maybe Malfoy’s got something on her that we don’t know about?”</p>
<p>“Like what? This is Rosie we’re talking about, what’s she gonna be up to that’d be worth blackmailing her over?”</p>
<p>“Maybe we just have to accept that she likes him. No accounting for taste, is there?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be an idiot, Hugo.”</p>
<p>Rose banged the door open with a glare already in place. Three equally startled men stared back at her.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she snapped, arms folding crossly. “I didn’t realise it was time for this month’s mother’s meeting already. It seems the owl carrying my invitation must have been blown off course.”</p>
<p>Albus, Hugo and her dad all turned various shades of scarlet as they stared back at her from their huddled position beside the sink. Each looked remarkably guilty and not at all equipped to deal with the torrent of rage she was about to deliver them.</p>
<p>It was her dad who recovered first, as he plastered on a nervous smile. Rose noticed his greying stubble was getting a little too long for her liking. She got the distinctly unnerving impression that he might be attempting to grow a beard…<em>again.</em></p>
<p>“Rosie! I’m sorry love, I err, wasn’t expecting you…”</p>
<p>“Evidently not.” Her blue eyes flashed with irritation. “Next time you plan on gossiping about my romantic life, perhaps you could do me the courtesy of using a simple Silencing Charm, at the very least!”</p>
<p>Albus stepped forward, arms outstretched imploringly. “We weren’t gossiping, Rosie, honestly. We’re just concerned —”</p>
<p>“And <em>you</em>!” She stopped him in his tracks with a pointed finger. “It’s the middle of the Quidditch season and you’re supposed to be in Falmouth! What are you even doing here?”</p>
<p>He shrugged, sheepishly. “Told my coach it was a family emergency.”</p>
<p>“<em>Merlin</em>,” she snarled. “This is ridiculous! There is no <em>‘emergency’</em>; this isn’t a problem you need to rally the troops to fix. I’m getting married, for Helga’s sake, not trying to resurrect Voldemort for the eighteenth bloody time! And Hugo, will you <em>please </em>stop that!”</p>
<p>She whirled around to where Hugo had begun to circle her, muttering various counter-curses and Dark-magic revealing spells under his breath with his wand pointed discreetly at her.</p>
<p>“Stop what?” he muttered, innocently.</p>
<p>Rose gritted her teeth together in frustration.  “Nobody here is under any curse. Although, I can’t promise not to start firing hexes, myself, in a minute.”</p>
<p>“We’re just worried about you, love,” her dad forced another smile, subtly gesturing for Hugo to back away. “It’s not every day you read about your daughter’s engagement in the national papers, that’s all. Especially when you didn’t even know she was seeing anyone.”</p>
<p>A flicker of hurt crossed his open features and Rose grimaced. Her intentions, of course, had been that none of her family would ever have been aware of her and Malfoy’s little arrangement. The <em>Prophet </em>article had seen away with that idea, along with her dubious moral high-ground. Could she really blame any of them for thinking she was either mad or under duress of some kind? She supposed, in a way, they were completely right. But it didn’t make this little strategy meeting she’d stumbled into sit any easier with her. Three men doubting and critiquing any woman’s choice rankled her feminist sensibilities.</p>
<p>“You should have just asked me,” she huffed, at last.</p>
<p>Albus rolled his eyes. “We tried —”</p>
<p>“Sending a Howler is not asking, Albus,” she clipped, shooting a glare at Hugo too, who wrinkled his nose. “I would have happily explained everything to you, if you’d only asked nicely.”</p>
<p>Hugo crossed his arms and leant back against the counter-top. “Go on, then,” he eyed her, challengingly. “Now we’re asking nicely. What are you doing getting engaged to a prat like Malfoy?”</p>
<p>Rose offered him a contemptuous eye roll, although she felt the surge of heat at her cheeks. “Well, because I love him, obviously.” She sincerely hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. The words sounded so odd rolling off her tongue that she wasn’t even sure she was pronouncing them correctly.</p>
<p>“Since when?” Albus stared at her with those annoyingly shrewd sea-green eyes of his. “I mean you never paid him any attention at school, and all I’ve ever heard you say about him since is that he’s an utter wanker.”</p>
<p>Rose’s dad let out an involuntary snort. Rose scowled – another peep out of him and she’d have to start bringing up the Chudley Cannons’ latest league position. Which was somewhere embarrassingly near the bottom, in case anybody wondered.</p>
<p>“It was a blind date,” she stuck her chin in the air, defiantly, as she tried out her rehearsed story. “A few months ago, now. And, yes, it’s been something of a whirlwind. He asked me to marry him last week and I said yes. Because I’m in love with him,” she reiterated, thinking she might as well get used to saying that for a while.</p>
<p>Her brother and Albus exchanged looks of disbelief over her head, but Rose stared them down with a huff.</p>
<p>“You don’t even have a ring,” her dad offered, feebly.</p>
<p><em>Merlin</em>, why was everyone so bloody bothered about the ring? She gritted her teeth. “He’s getting me one,” she hissed, which wasn’t entirely untrue.</p>
<p>“I’d have that checked for Dark magic before you put it on, if I were you,” Hugo grumbled.</p>
<p>“And now you’re just being a bigot,” Rose snapped at him. “I bet you’ve never even properly met him, have you?”</p>
<p>Hugo furrowed his brow but flushed, guiltily, and turned to stare at the wall.</p>
<p>“Well, I have,” Albus piped up. “Shared a dorm room with him for seven years, didn’t I? And I’m happy to confirm that ironing his boxer shorts is about his least offensive attribute.”</p>
<p>Rose huffed. “Oh, really? And what was it that he did to you, then, that was so offensive?”</p>
<p>At that, Albus stalled, frowning as he looked over to Hugo for help, who simply shrugged and continued to sulk in the corner. “Well…he didn’t do anything to me, exactly. I mean, for the most part we just left each other alone, apart from Quidditch practice where I suppose he was a fairly decent Seeker. Not that <em>that’s </em>a compliment, mind you. Anyone with decent eyesight could be a good Seeker, just got to find one bloody ball, haven’t you? Now, Keeper is where the real challenge is —”</p>
<p>Ron was shaking his head in exasperation, Hugo rolled his eyes, and Rose pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to swat her cousin around the back of his head.</p>
<p>“Well, you make a lot of great points, there, Al,” she drawled. “But what I’m failing to hear is one good reason why you actually dislike him.”</p>
<p>The irony of the situation was that Rose could have come up with a twenty-point list of such reasons, straight off the top of her head. But that wasn’t going to convince anyone that she was madly in love with Malfoy, the absolute prat.</p>
<p>“Well, he’s just so…” Albus gestured vaguely into the air. “…<em>Malfoy</em>. And you’re so… <em>you</em>. It doesn’t make any sense.”</p>
<p>Rose squared her shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “Well, it’s a good job it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but me and Scorpius, then, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>She snapped her glare over to her dad, who was busy muttering something that sounded suspiciously like <em>“bloody stupid name,” </em>doing her best to channel her inner Weasley-woman outrage.</p>
<p>“You know, I didn’t expect you all to understand immediately, but I had hoped you might trust me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt on this. I know what I’m doing.” Her gaze swept the little kitchen, effectively chastising each of the three men. “And feel free to let me know when you’re done plotting against me. Until then, you’re all officially uninvited from the wedding.”</p>
<p>“Oi!” Hugo cried, looking suitably wounded. “That’s not fair. This was Dad’s idea, not mine!”</p>
<p>“You little traitor —” her dad growled and made to throw a tea-towel at his head. But Rose wasn’t sticking around to watch the father-son duel unfold. With a last glance at Albus, who was frowning at her concernedly, she stuck her nose in the air and flounced back through the kitchen doorway.</p>
<p>Her insides were a turbulent mix of feelings. Did she feel guilty for manipulating her family, for lying to and deceiving them? Absolutely. Was she also a little bit hurt that they (quite rightly) didn’t trust her enough to believe she was in control of the situation? It was a total contradiction of rational thinking but, yes, she was.</p>
<p>As usual, it was far easier to blame Malfoy for her predicament than it was to admit her own fault, and so, cursing the very existence of her dearly betrothed, she roughly shouldered her work satchel and Apparated out into the evening.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>Rose was just pouring herself a second glass of wine when she heard the almighty crash coming from her living room.</p>
<p>“<em>Buggering Merlin!”</em> came a familiar snarl. “What in Salazar’s name is wrong with your Floo, Weasley?!”</p>
<p>Biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself smirking, Rose leant against the kitchen doorframe, glass in hand, and eyed the crumpled heap that was Malfoy in the middle of the floor. It appeared her Floo had sent him spinning into her sofa, judging from the pile of cushions on top of him, and the small disaster zone of his belongings that now littered her carpet. She glanced at the clock – eight on the dot – at least he was getting more punctual.</p>
<p>“As ever, you make an entrance with both grace and decorum, Malfoy,” she sniggered his words back at him. “<em>So</em> sorry about that,” she added without a hint of sincerity. “I keep meaning to get that fixed…”</p>
<p>Scorpius sat up with a scowl, kicking his legs free of her tasselled rug and looking distinctly non-plussed. “No wonder you keep turning up to work looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge. What’s wrong with it? Faulty location tracker?”</p>
<p>Rose rolled her eyes and turned back toward the kitchen, “Charming. And I have absolutely no idea.”</p>
<p>She heard Scorpius clattering about, righting himself and presumably picking up his various belongings from where they’d been strewn about the living room. Then everything went suspiciously quiet. She poked her head back around the doorframe to find him gazing about the room, a look of great consternation on his face.</p>
<p>“Something not to your tastes, Malfoy? Let me guess, not a fan of synthetic fabrics?”</p>
<p>He let out something between a scoff and a snort. “Well, for starters, there’s barely enough room to swing a Kneazle in here. If I’d have known you lived in a glorified broom cupboard, I’d have been more insistent about you coming to live with me, instead.”</p>
<p>“And, as I made very clear, the only scenario in which that would ever happen, would involve you dragging my lifeless corpse over to your flat.” She offered him a saccharine smile which he didn’t seem to appreciate, judging by the over-zealous eye roll.</p>
<p>He turned then, quickly crossing the room in his great strides until he stood in front of her bookshelves. Rose eyed him warily. If the idea of having Malfoy in her flat had seemed unpleasant, the reality was even worse. He just didn’t look right amidst all her knick-knacks and treasures; the various detritus of her life. She bristled, every part of her on edge, as he surveyed her literary collection with his judgemental gaze. He reached out, fingering some of the book spines and sniggered. It made her squirm, uncomfortably, a heat rising in her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Your room is at the end of the hall,” she snapped, when she couldn’t tolerate watching him invade her space any longer, turning away from him with a toss of her curls.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to show me the way?” He moved to lounge in the doorway behind her. “Or offer me a glass of whatever swill you’re drinking? Tell me, do you treat all of your guests so poorly, or am I just getting special treatment?”</p>
<p>“You are not a guest, Malfoy,” she muttered, begrudgingly pulling a second wine glass from the cupboard. “You are an unwelcome intruder, who essentially invited himself in here. You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”</p>
<p>Scorpius huffed out a laugh, before digging a hand into the inside pocket of his robes. “This is for you, by the way.”</p>
<p>He threw it at her before she was ready and she narrowly avoided sloshing her glass of wine all over the floor as she fumbled the catch, opening her palm to reveal a simple gold ring adorned with a central ruby and two flanking diamonds. It really was quite beautiful and not at all what she’d expected – there was a distinct lack of oversized gems or self-indulgent family crests, for one thing – in fact, it was probably the sort of thing she’d have picked out for herself, if she ever happened to be in the market for an engagement ring one day.</p>
<p>She stared at it for a moment, glistening in her palm, before glancing up at him. “Ruby red for Gryffindor, is it?”</p>
<p>He shrugged, disinterestedly. “Actually, it reminded me of your hair. Plus no one in my family would ever be caught dead wearing it, so I didn’t think anyone would miss it.”</p>
<p>Rose rolled her eyes and took another large gulp of her wine, emboldening herself enough to slip the ring onto her left ring finger. It had a nice weight to it, she found, and seemed to fit remarkably well for a random piece of jewellery found lying in a long-forgotten vault somewhere.</p>
<p>“Re-sizing Charm,” Scorpius answered her unspoken question as he disappeared back into the lounge. “I had it checked for…other enchantments, too, just in case. It’s safe, as far as I can tell.”</p>
<p>Rose nodded thoughtfully, watching through the little kitchen hatch as he shouldered the rather heavy looking bag he’d brought with him and stooped to pick up a box filled with various books and parchment. She caught sight of one of the titles lying on top: <em>Common Marriage Rituals of Seventeenth Century Practitioners, </em>which reminded her of her most recent resolution.</p>
<p>“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you —” She set off after him down the hallway, almost running into the back of him as he stopped dead on the threshold of his room, a horrified expression on his face.</p>
<p>“I thought you said you had a spare bedroom, Weasley? This is the lair of a lunatic serial killer.”</p>
<p>Rose scowled and peered over his shoulder. Annoyingly, he actually had a point. In all the chaos of the last few days, she’d forgotten that she’d turned her spare room into an office of sorts. All of her research, sketches and blueprints of the Glenfinnan Viaduct were strewn around the room, littering the desk, the bed, and tacked up on the walls with Spellotape. All that was missing was a dead body and she’d have had a most convincing crime scene.   </p>
<p>“Careful with those!” she snapped, as Scorpius set about sweeping her various notes and ordinance survey maps off the bed.</p>
<p>“Look, I consider myself a fairly low maintenance house guest,” he grumbled, levitating a large scale model of the Hogwarts Express that she had, at some point, propped against the headboard, and apparently having no idea of the hilarity of what he’d just said, “but the absolute minimum I require is a bed that doesn’t also double as the command centre for your unhealthy obsession with an old bridge. Now –” He turned to her when he’d eventually cleared a path through the debris. “– if you can just show me where you keep the trouser press?”</p>
<p>Wisely choosing to ignore him, Rose fished the book she’d seen out of his luggage. “Listen, Malfoy, I’ve been thinking, and I want to help you…with the marriage curse stuff, I mean.”</p>
<p>Scorpius stared at her in surprise, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. “It’s a blood-oath.”</p>
<p>“Sorry?”</p>
<p>“It’s a blood-oath, not a curse. The distinction is important.”</p>
<p>“Err, right, if you say so.” Rose gently huffed the fringe out of her eyes. “Well, I figured I’m fairly invested in this scheme of ours, now. I mean, I’ve even given up half of my flat, for Merlin’s sake. And besides, you might have noticed I have a bit of experience when it comes to researching these sorts of things.” Both she and Scorpius glanced up at the walls, decorated in her enthusiastic scribblings and notes. She shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to have a second pair of eyes working on it, could it? Plus, if it means we can call off this sham of an engagement any sooner, then even better.”</p>
<p>Scorpius frowned, studying her for a moment. Rose shifted in the doorway, uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“No,” he said simply.</p>
<p>Rose blinked in surprise. “What? Why not —”</p>
<p>“I said no, Weasley. I thought I’d made myself clear when you agreed to this arrangement.”</p>
<p>“Well, yes, but that was before —”</p>
<p>“You have your part to play and I have mine. I don’t need your help, and I’m certainly not one of your little pet projects, so you can go and indulge your absurd homework addiction elsewhere.”</p>
<p>Rose glared at him in startled outrage. He stared back at her coolly, his arms folded across his chest. The <em>nerve</em> of the git, she seethed through clenched teeth. Inserting himself into her <em>home</em> for Circe’s sake, making rude comments about everything in sight and then having the audacity to tell her to mind her own business.</p>
<p>She silently chastised herself, glare still locked with his. I mean, really, what else had she been expecting? She seemed to have momentarily forgotten that she was dealing with a man who had all the personality attributes of a particularly vindictive goblin.</p>
<p>“Suit yourself, then,” she snapped, tossing his book back on top of the pile with a little more vigour than was strictly necessary. “See if I care when you get yourself magically hitched to whichever in-bred troll is first in the running. And, just so you know, there is no bloody trouser press, you pretentious arse!”</p>
<p>She slammed the door shut on Malfoy’s sudden expression of alarm. It seemed their new living arrangement was off to a wonderfully smooth start.</p>
<hr/>
<p>.</p>
<p>
  <em>ET</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Trials & Toasts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: And we're back! After a slightly extended wait for this chapter (please blame miserable rotas and this little thing called a global pandemic) - we are ready to rock n' roll. For those who share my love of a forced cohabitation trope: YOU ARE WELCOME. Sadly, this story is set post-Hogwarts, therefore it was beyond my capability to shoe-horn in a shared Head Boy/Girl dormitory... but don't think I didn't consider it!</p><p>Thanks to those reviewing! It's amazing to hear from you as we go along, digging ourselves deeper and deeper into this trope hole (please ignore questionable phrasing). </p><p>Arnel 63 continues to amaze with their brilliant editing. Pulling this story back from the brink of a grammar disaster time and time again. Any and all remaining mistakes are my own bloomin' fault. Now, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flannel pyjamas.</p><p>That’s what Rose had been wearing when she’d stumbled out of her bedroom the next morning – bleary eyed and in search of plutonium grade coffee, her hair a figurative bird’s nest and with breath that could probably have knocked a postal owl off-course – only to find Scorpius Malfoy sitting at her kitchen table. It took a moment for her sleep-addled brain to get over the initial shock, and another for it to realise that he was drinking <em>her </em>coffee. Eating <em>her </em>Pixie Puffs. And filling in <em>her </em>bloody crossword puzzle. And, of course, already impeccably dressed in business casual.</p><p>“Morning, Weasley.” Scorpius had performed a rather unsubtle double take at the sight of the humanoid troll in the kitchen doorway. His eyes dropped briefly to her night attire. “Are those…pygmy puffs?”</p><p>Rose blushed a furious shade of scarlet and scampered back to her bedroom, making a series of noises that alternated between very unladylike curses and high-pitched whines. Had she somehow forgotten that she was now flat-sharing with the (annoyingly well put-together) arse of the century? Yes, apparently, she had. And was she wearing ten-year-old pyjamas with a delightful purple pygmy puff print and a suspicious stain somewhere around her bum? Yes, indeed she was.</p><p>Was there a more unnerving way to start one’s weekend? No. No, there most definitely was not.</p><p>Rose re-emerged five minutes later; her cheeks still aflame but a lot more substantially dressed. She shuffled about the kitchen, banging around in the cupboards for mugs and bowls and steadfastly avoiding Scorpius’ amused stare.</p><p>“So…” he drawled, after a long and uncomfortable moment. “Are we going to talk about your choice of night attire at any point?”</p><p>“They were a gift,” she sniffed, not yet able to meet his eye as she blushingly poured herself a cup of coffee. “My Aunt Audrey bought them for me.”</p><p>He nodded, thoughtfully. “Is your Aunt Audrey visually impaired, by any chance?”</p><p>“Oh, shove off, Malfoy,” she snapped, sitting down across from him with a huff and snatching her morning paper from under his nose. “We can’t all look like we’ve just walked out of a Madame Malkins’ window display first thing in the morning.”</p><p>Scorpius smirked into his Pixie Puffs and Rose blushed again when she realised her mistake.</p><p>“That wasn’t meant to be a compliment,” she hissed with a scowl.</p><p>“Odd. It certainly <em>sounded</em> like a compliment...”</p><p>“Well, it’s early and I’m delirious,” she grimaced down at her newspaper and the numerous scribbles all over her favourite puzzle page. She discovered he’d already completed both the arithmancy puzzles <em>and</em> the coded rune translation and her scowl darkened further. With a poisonous glare in his general direction, Rose reached for the box of cereal, only to find that he had also left her with the barest of crumbs for her breakfast.  </p><p>“Are you joking?” she snapped, waving the empty box at him.</p><p>Scorpius simply shrugged. “It’s hardly my fault you failed to accommodate for having an extra house guest, is it?”</p><p>“For the last time, Malfoy, you are not a <em>guest</em>! I didn’t even invite you here.”</p><p>“The exact how and why of me being here is irrelevant. The fact is that I am, and you need to adjust accordingly.” He grinned smugly and pinched the paper back, flipping to the sports pages with the air of a man who apparently felt very at home in his current surroundings.</p><p>Rose glared for a further minute before realising her hunger vastly outweighed her desire to smack Malfoy around the head with her empty cereal box. With a snarl, she marched over to the cupboards and set about rummaging for scraps. She remembered, as she catalogued the forlorn looking contents – two jars of pesto, a dubious looking onion and a pumpkin pasty that was so out of date and mouldy that it ought to be studied in Care of Magical Creatures – that, unfortunately, she wasn’t the type of well-adjusted adult who had <em>options </em>for breakfast.</p><p>A pint of coffee it was, then. <em>Let’s hope Malfoy likes his fiancés jumpy and neurotic</em>, she thought, acerbically.</p><p>“We’re due at the Manor for half one,” Scorpius muttered without looking up from his paper, his foot bobbing rhythmically where it crossed his knee at the ankle and irritating Rose to the nth degree.</p><p>“Fine,” she huffed. “And will there actually be any food at this so-called lunch, or is this one of those fancy affairs where people survive off back-handed compliments and tiny morsels of crab meat?”</p><p>Scorpius snorted into his coffee. “There’ll be food. Although I wouldn’t bet on eating in daylight hours. My mother generally doesn’t let a little thing like the modern laws of time dictate one of her luncheons.”</p><p>Rose gave another long look into her empty cupboards and sighed.</p><p>“And you’ll need to wear something nice,” Scorpius added. “Something that’s not…<em>that</em>.” He eyed her jumper and jeans with displeasure.</p><p>Rose glanced down at herself and then fixed him with another scowl. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Admittedly her Hogwarts’ Alumni, Class of 2024 jumper wasn’t her most stylish choice. It had been, however, conveniently atop of her clean laundry pile.</p><p>“We don’t have enough time for me to answer that question, Weasley,” he drawled, throwing another eye roll in for good measure. “But, suffice to say, I doubt you’d even make it through the Manor gates looking like that. There’s a rather strong Repelling Charm on the house to keep away…undesirables.”</p><p>“Muggles, you mean?” She glared and folded her arms crossly.</p><p>“No,” he frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Just people with no sense of taste or good fashion.”</p><p>Rose had retorted with a contemptuous sneer and stomped her way back towards her bedroom. She was fairly sure she had a half-eaten chocolate frog somewhere on her dresser (a remnant of an exhausted post-research midnight snack) which looked very much like it was destined to be her only breakfast at this rate.</p><p>Once she’d showered and cast the usual charms on her hair when she needed it to at least <em>try </em>to behave, she spent an agonising thirty minutes staring into her wardrobe, wondering precisely what the Malfoy family’s definition of <em>‘nice’ </em>was, and whether any of her clothes would remotely fit the bill. Begrudgingly, she realised her only option to ensure she didn’t make a total fool of herself, was to ask the one person currently living under her roof who would know exactly what that definition was.</p><p>Fastening her towel firmly around her, she snatched her two best dresses from her wardrobe and marched back into the living room, where Scorpius had since migrated onto the couch and was studying something on a piece of parchment.</p><p>“Right, Malfoy,” she sighed resignedly and held up her clothes. “Which of these best gives the impression that I’m your loving future wife and not, as is actually the case, a giant phony who really wouldn’t care if you dropped dead at any moment?”</p><p>He looked up at her, smiling drily. “You really do have such a way with words, my darling. To be clear, you’re actually asking me to pass judgement on your outfit choice now?”</p><p>She huffed her fringe out of her eyes. “On this one and only occasion, yes. Do try and restrain yourself.”</p><p>He stood with a grin and crossed the room towards her with a spring in his step. Rose braced herself for the usual torrent of snide insults and cutting remarks.</p><p>Scorpius tilted his head, glancing between the two dresses. “The yellow sundress,” he said simply.</p><p>Rose stared at him expectantly for another moment. “What…that’s it? You don’t want to add that I’ll probably look like a giant banana or an overstuffed canary?”</p><p>He eyed her in amusement. “Do you want to look like a giant banana?”</p><p>“No! I just thought…” she trailed off, feeling oddly disconcerted by the lack of verbal abuse. “The yellow sundress, you’re sure?”</p><p>He nodded. “It’s summer, Weasley, which means my mother will make the most of the opportunity to show off the Manor gardens. A sundress is perfectly appropriate and the colour suits your complexion.” He shrugged. “I assume you <em>like</em> the dress, as why else would you own it? Or does blind Aunt Audrey buy all of your clothes for you?”</p><p>Rose laughed without meaning to. “Yellow sundress, it is. Err, thanks. Nice to know I can count on you for the important decisions, I suppose –...wait, what are you reading?” She clocked the parchment he’d left lying on the couch, featuring very familiar handwriting and the sketched outline of a certain viaduct.</p><p>“Are those my notes?” She frowned, tossing both dresses over the arm of a nearby chair and moving to snatch up her stolen work. To her utter outrage, she noticed he’d not only been reading her work but <em>adding </em>to it. Next to her slightly erratic scribbles were a number of annotations:</p><p><em>Possibly not enough original stone left for sympathetic restoration?! </em> <strong>– Use a variant of the Geminio Curse.</strong></p><p><em>Additional charms for protection against the elements? </em> <strong>– Likely too large a surface area, requires more research.</strong></p><p><em>Aim to complete first stage of restoration by late September. </em> <strong>– Unrealistic. </strong></p><p>She snapped her head up to glare at him. “Malfoy!” she started, crossly</p><p>“What?” He frowned, though she couldn’t fail to notice the faint blush that dusted his cheekbones. “I couldn’t sleep after you dropped that bomb about the trouser press and, well, I was literally <em>surrounded </em>by your insanity. I was curious.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged.</p><p>Rose felt her fingers biting into the parchment, her hackles raised. It wasn’t that her pride was smarting from his snobbish critique of some of her ideas – oh, alright, that might have had a little something to do with it – but the fact that not a mere twelve hours ago, he had effectively told her to bugger off and keep her ideas to herself when it came to <em>his</em> current predicament with the blood-oath. Now, he apparently thought it perfectly acceptable to pass judgement on a project most dear to her heart.</p><p>“This is…I mean…” she seethed as she felt herself bristling, shoulders squaring as she clutched at her towel. “The <em>hypocrisy </em>of it!”</p><p>Scorpius stared at her, blankly. “What?”</p><p>She rounded on him, crossly. “What happened to <em>‘None of your concern, Weasley’…’You play your part, I’ll play mine’</em>?” She put on a particularly nasal tone in her impersonation of him, which he didn’t appreciate judging by his scowl. “You won’t even talk to me about this marriage curse nonsense and yet you seem perfectly happy to insert yourself into <em>my </em>business without a second thought!”</p><p>“It’s an <em>oath</em>, not a curse. We’ve been through this,” he withered, with a roll of his eyes. “And that’s completely different, Weasley. I’m already intimately involved with your little project – I’m the one that got you the funding, remember? I have a right to know what a total disaster you’re going to make of it.”</p><p>Her mouth ajar in startled outrage, Rose glared at him. “We’re meant to be sodding <em>engaged, </em>Malfoy!” She shoved her ring-adorned hand in his face. “You’re <em>squatting</em> in my flat. How much more intimately involved in your stupid scheme could I be?!”</p><p>He winced, swatting away her hand. “That’s…I mean, it’s just different. My thing is personal.”</p><p>“So is this!” She gripped the parchment tightly.</p><p>“It’s a bridge,” he muttered, flatly.</p><p>“Actually, it’s a <em>viaduct</em>,” she spat. “And it’s also so much more than that! It’s our history, it matters, it’s —”</p><p>“<em>‘It’s important’</em>… Yes, Weasley, I’ve already heard your little speech. You’ve already got your funding so you don’t need to try and convince me this isn’t just another of your pointless obsessions. And, frankly, I don’t even care.”</p><p>“Oh, really?!” She heard her voice rising through the octaves, but there was nothing she could do about it. She felt positively livid. “Well, maybe I <em>don’t care</em> whether or not you wiggle out of this blood-oath. Maybe I don’t care about helping you fool your parents, or whether you get married off before Christmas. <em>Maybe </em>I’ll just stay home this afternoon and…I don’t know…paint my bloody toe-nails or something!”</p><p>Scorpius paled. “Now, just hold on a minute, that’s not the deal and you know it —”</p><p>But Rose was spared from hearing his desperate attempt to back-peddle by a loud tapping noise coming from somewhere behind her. She and Malfoy turned, both staring at the silhouette of a postal owl, bashing its beak against her living room window with a distinctly cross look on its face, as if it had been there for some time, ignored. Rose squinted, spotting the by-now familiar red hue of a Howler resting in its letter holder, and then she zeroed in on the Hogwarts emblem on the wax seal.</p><p>“Don’t open that window!” she yelled, but it was too late. Malfoy had already crossed the room, muttering darkly about psychotic women and their volatile tempers, and opened the latch. The bird promptly ruffled its way inside, dropping the letter on the floor before shooting them both a look of disdain and taking off again without waiting for any refreshments.</p><p>Scorpius stared down at the incriminating envelope with a look of surprise. “Is that a…Howler? Merlin, I haven’t had one of those since I was seventeen.”</p><p>“Lucky you,” she griped, already reaching for her trusty Herbology ear-muffs. “They’re practically a daily occurrence in my family. Put these on, quickly. The contents of that letter are <em>also </em>none of your business.”</p><p>He pulled a face of disgust. “I’m not touching those, there’s soil matted in the fur —”</p><p>“<em>Now</em>, Malfoy!”</p><p>But the Howler erupted before she could reach over and physically cram them over his ears. They jumped apart at the fizzing, spitting explosion of paper. Rose winced; Scorpius stared.</p><p>
  <em>“ROSE NYMPHADORA WEASLEY!”</em>
</p><p>The unfortunately familiar tones of her mother in full Hermione-Granger-Is-Officially-Outraged mode came bursting forth from the scarlet letter. Rose felt a small part of herself die a little inside.</p><p>
  <em>“Not only have you gotten engaged without telling me or your father, but NOW you’re ignoring my letters. And not just mine, but the entire family’s! What on Earth is going on, Rose?!”</em>
</p><p>Rose glanced awkwardly at Scorpius, who was staring at the hovering Howler with a mix of awe and incredulity on his face.</p><p>“Is that…Hermione Granger-Weasley?” He blinked in amazement. “Previously Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and respected Deputy and Chief Policy Advisor to Minister Shacklebolt?”</p><p>It was as if he’d forgotten who she was related to, in all the excitement.</p><p>Rose rolled her eyes, darkly. “She doesn’t work for the Ministry anymore. And she just goes by Granger, now.”</p><p><em>“We’re all incredibly worried about you!” </em>the Howler continued to rage. Rose often found that her mother seemed to confuse the words ‘worried about’ and ‘furious with’. <em>“I know you went to see your father this week, and he told me the headlines are all true. I cannot believe you wouldn’t have shared this with us, first!”</em></p><p>Rose grimaced; what was the use of having recently divorced parents if they still managed to gang up on her from afar? </p><p>
  <em>“I know things have been…strained recently. And I’m aware that you’re still not very happy with me for taking the position at Hogwarts. But Rose…Rosie…I am your mother, and you’re getting married. And you didn’t even bother to tell me?”</em>
</p><p>It was Scorpius’ turn to glance awkwardly at Rose, who had flushed bright red and was frowning at the Howler intently.</p><p>
  <em>“Did you not think we would approve? Your father and I have history with the Malfoys, yes, but we would never try and impose our views onto Hugo or yourself. Well…your father might, but I wouldn’t let him and he certainly wouldn’t mean to. You have every right to love and marry whomever you choose, and I’m hurt that you wouldn’t trust us enough to share that you and Scorpius were involved.”</em>
</p><p>“Oh, sweet Helga,” Rose muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose as her cheeks continued to burn. Scorpius had become intently interested in a nearby spot on the carpet. </p><p>
  <em>“When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me. Until then, please know that I love and care about you, even when you’re busy pretending I don’t exist. And when you’re quite finished being so secretive and aloof, I’m sure that we’d all love to meet the man that you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with.” </em>
</p><p>The Howler gave Rose one last reprimanding scowl, before erupting into a burst of paper streamers. Rose cringed down at the debris for a long and silent moment; Scorpius cleared his throat, awkwardly, and picked a few stray, red flecks out of his hair.</p><p>“Well,” he started, “at least now I know where you get your delightfully placid disposition from.”</p><p>“Just…<em>don’t</em>, Malfoy,” she pressed her lips together, trying to discern between the sting of embarrassment at having Scorpius bear witness to that dressing down, and the usual bilious mix of feeling she seemed to get recently, whenever she had to deal her mother. “You know something, maybe you’re right,” she bit out, turning away to snatch up her discarded dresses. “It <em>is</em> better that we just keep out of each other’s business, keep things professional. I’ll be ready to leave in an hour.”</p><p>And, before Scorpius could formulate his next insult, she’d marched off down the hallway without a backward glance, her research now laying entirely forgotten on the couch.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Scorpius stared up at his ancestral home with a sense of great foreboding.</p><p>It wasn’t totally unusual for him to feel a little unnerved about coming home. As a child, he’d sat through a number of uncomfortable dinners with his grandfather who, as an elderly man, had been prone to the occasional bigoted outburst and had a tendency to call him Draco. Nowadays, a trip home posed the risk of encountering his nightmarish Aunt Daphne, or whichever young witch his mother had recently befriended and slyly invited to join them for Thursday night dinner, in the hope they might manage to beguile him. Every visit was a potential minefield.</p><p>Today, however, there was nothing <em>potential</em> about it. Because today, he was bringing his fiancée home for lunch.</p><p>Scorpius glanced at Rose, who was standing beside him and also peering up at the Manor in apprehension. She’d been fairly subdued since the arrival of her mother’s Howler and, to be honest, Scorpius was a little concerned. Not so much about Weasley herself, per se, but rather that if she didn’t have all her wits about her, his father might just tear her – and, by extension, their entire ruse – to pieces. Not that a subdued Rose Weasley was an <em>all</em> bad thing, however. There’d been a distinct reduction in the number of snide remarks thrown his way since that morning, and she hadn’t even complained when he’d Side-Along-Apparated them out to the middle of Wiltshire without so much as a word of warning.</p><p>He nudged her shoulder with his. “Ready for this, Weasley?”</p><p>She toyed nervously with the glinting ruby ring on her left hand and frowned up at house. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”</p><p>“Stop fidgeting, then.” He snatched her hands away from her hair – she’d already made them late trying to subdue her mane into some sort of fancy knot – and laced his fingers with hers. “We’re in love, remember,” he answered her questioning stare. </p><p>Rose grimaced but nodded, and he watched as she pinned her shoulders back with a deep, re-setting sigh. She was an excellent compartmentaliser, he’d noticed. Her earlier fury at him prying into her research had been squirreled away internally as soon as her mother’s letter had landed. And whatever tumultuous cloud of feelings she had towards <em>that</em> had now been pushed aside so that she was all business again. It was really rather impressive… although probably doing a number on her mental health, he suspected.</p><p>Not that that was his problem.</p><p>Rather than entering through the front door, Scorpius set off suddenly around the side of the house, heading directly for the gardens and pulling Rose along beside him – her curious gaze darting about the grounds and trying to peer into the various windows they passed.</p><p>“Is that a —”</p><p>“A peacock, yes,” he sighed. He’d rather hoped the last one or two of those might have snuffed it by now. He occasionally still had nightmares about the ghostly fowl that lurked amongst the hedgerows, and had seemed almost gigantically large when he was a toddler.</p><p>The couple rounded the corner to where the formal garden emerged, the large French windows at the back of the house all thrown open to welcome in the summer’s day warmth. Scorpius stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of them, feeling Rose stumble to a halt beside him.</p><p>It took both of them a moment to process what they were seeing…</p><p>“Well,” Rose griped, nervously. Scorpius felt her squeeze his hand a little tighter. “So much for not having an engagement party.”</p><p>The lawn was littered with guests. There had to be over a hundred people here, Scorpius thought, as he stared in bewilderment. Some people he recognised, as he swept the crowd with an astonished gaze, the usual suspects at one of his parents’ parties. Others, however, he was quite certain he’d never met in his entire life. There were several large, decorative topiaries – one looked suspiciously like it was meant to be cupid, although the gardener had obviously had a bit of trouble recreating the cherubic form – and various archways and trellises were covered in pale pink roses. Trays of champagne floated around the edge of the lawn and the sound of a string quartet was just audible over the general hum of chatter.</p><p>It was, in no uncertain terms, their mutual worst nightmare.</p><p>“Oh, at last! They’re here!” His mother came sweeping towards them out of the milling crowd. She was wearing a long cream dress with a broderie anglaise trim, looking every part the bride to be, rather than the future mother-in-law. Scorpius winced at the distinctly Freudian connotations.</p><p>“Rose, you look positively radiant!” Astoria was kissing the air around Rose’s startled head and beaming at her in delight. “And, Scorpius, my darling, I’m so pleased you wore the blue —”</p><p>“Mother,” he cut her off, tersely. “I thought this was supposed to be a small luncheon?”</p><p>She blushed incriminatingly. “Well, of course dear. But I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited just a few of our closest friends.”</p><p>“<em>Just a few —…</em>Mother, this is practically half of Wizarding England. Who are all these people?!”</p><p>“Don’t be ungrateful, Scorpius,” his father’s drawl preceded him, as he emerged from a side-door to the house – where he had apparently also been hiding – carrying a rather stiff looking drink. “Your mother got a little over-excited about your engagement, that’s all. Apparently, she wanted to welcome Miss Weasley into our family with rather more gusto than a ‘small luncheon’.”</p><p>Scorpius eyed his father with a scowl, and was about to offer some unhelpful retort, when Weasley beat him to it.</p><p>“That’s lovely, Mrs Malfoy, thank you,” Rose smiled, pleasantly, cutting through the threatening tension, even as her nails were cutting into his palm. “We’re just a little…surprised, is all. And now feeling distinctly under-dressed.”</p><p>Scorpius saw his mother’s shoulders relax and she rushed to snatch up Rose’s hand again. “Oh, do call me Astoria. And you mustn’t be silly, dear. That’s such a lovely dress, and it so suits your complexion.”</p><p>Rose smiled again. “Funny, that’s just what Scorpius said.” Which, of course, sent his mother into a bout of gushing and made his father snort, inelegantly, into his scotch.</p><p>Scorpius eyed Rose as she continued to endure his mother’s over-excitement, listening patiently as Astoria began a brief who’s-who of the vast hordes that had apparently come to wish them congratulations, and somehow managing to not look like she wanted to throw herself off the top of the Manor’s surprisingly tall East Tower.</p><p>That might have been because she didn’t know the Manor had an East Tower, of course, but Scorpius had to admit Rose was actually rather good at this.</p><p>He turned then, catching his father watching him with interest.</p><p>“And I suppose you’d have me believe you had nothing to do with this?” Scorpius eyed him, warily.</p><p>“I absolutely did not,” Draco sniffed in disdain and took another sip of his drink. “You know how much I hate having people in the house. The first I knew about any of it was when that ancient harpy Skeeter turned up at the door.”</p><p>“Skeeter?” Scorpius’ eyes flew wide, his gaze darting anxiously about the crowd. “You mean the press are here?”</p><p>His father grimaced. “Regretfully, yes. That woman has done almost as much damage to this family as Voldemort himself, and now here she is, eating canapes on my lawn.”</p><p>Scorpius frowned. “A little warning might have been nice.”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Rather like when you gave us <em>so much</em> warning that you’d proposed marriage to a girl from one of the most high-profile families in the country?” Draco arched a sardonic eyebrow. “Not to mention the daughter of Ronald Weasley, who is still the most ignorant buffoon I have ever had the displeasure of — Ah! Darling,” he smiled, effortlessly, as Astoria approached, pulling Rose along with her. “Scorpius and I were just discussing what an inspired idea it was to invite <em>The Prophet </em>to cover today’s festivities.”</p><p>Scorpius shot him a sour look.</p><p>“<em>The Prophet?”</em> Rose mirrored Scorpius’ earlier reaction, eyes growing wide as she glanced anxiously over her shoulder.</p><p>“Yes!” Astoria beamed. “That article they printed was so very…tasteless. And that photo did you absolutely no justice at all, Rose, my darling. I thought it might be nice for you both to have a chance to tell the world how you feel about each other in your own words, a more official announcement of your engagement, so to speak.”</p><p>“Right,” Rose’s plastered-on smile was beginning to waiver. “How we feel about each other…Yes. Wonderful.”</p><p>Scorpius stepped in swiftly, taking Rose by the hand again and edging her away from his mother’s over-enthusiasm and his father’s irritatingly astute gaze. “Well, if you’ll excuse us… Mother… Father, I think it’s time we helped ourselves to the refreshments and said hello to some of our guests.” He placed a firm hand on Rose’s waist to steer her quickly through the crowd. She must have been in a mild state of shock, he realised, because she didn’t complain or even try to swat him away.</p><p>“This is an absolute disaster, Malfoy,” she hissed, when they were safely out of his parents’ ear-shot.</p><p>“Just relax, <em>sweetheart</em>,” he muttered, although, as the clench of his jaw belied, he was anything but. “We’d already spoken about making a statement to the press, hadn’t we? This is just an…acceleration of our plans.”</p><p>“And which part of our plan, exactly, involved parading ourselves in front of the nosey beau monde all afternoon?” Her gaze darted nervously about the crowd.</p><p>Scorpius smiled forcedly at a group of his mother’s friends who were watching them with interest from behind a topiary. “The part that is rapidly unfolding, as we speak,” he muttered, ushering her towards one of the floating drinks trays and snatching them both a glass. “Here, drink this and pretend you’re having a nice time.”</p><p>They both took a needy gulp of champagne. Scorpius arched an eyebrow when he noticed Rose had almost downed the entire glass.</p><p>He lowered his voice to a murmur so that only she could hear. “Look, this might not have been on our agenda, but it <em>is </em>happening, apparently. My mother means well —”</p><p>“Funny,” she griped, “that’s what you said about blabber-mouth Aunt Daphne. Seems to be a bit of a family trait.”</p><p>He narrowly resisted the urge to glare at her. “We can debate whose family is the more bothersome when we make it home to the safety of our flat —”</p><p>“<em>My </em>flat,” she grumbled, under her breath.</p><p>Scorpius pressed his lips together with a barely suppressed huff of annoyance. “Right now, we need a strategy. Do we divide and conquer or is there safety in numbers, do you think?”</p><p>Rose’s eyes widened. “We’re sticking together, Malfoy. No way on Earth I’m letting you leave me here to fend for myself.” She quickly clutched his hand again, securing it in something akin to a death grip, but which looked – to every overly curious guest – like the affectionate gesture of a loving fiancée.</p><p>“Fine,” he plastered on a smile, even as she continued to crush his phalanges, “together, it is. Brace yourself, Weasley. Time to channel your inner blushing bride.”</p><p>And with that, he tugged her forward into the waiting crowd. He started them off easy, heading for a group of elderly witches that he thought he might be related to somehow on his mother’s side, and whom he knew would be more interested in fussing over himself and his new bride than asking any difficult questions. Rose accepted their compliments graciously, assuring them of her delight at the prospect of a Christmas ceremony, and only faltering when one of them enquired when they were planning on starting a family. Scorpius took that as his cue, making their excuses and moving them on to the next group…and then the next…and the next.</p><p>They dealt with his father’s financial associates, dispatched with his mother’s luncheon club, and all but annihilated some of Scorpius’ old school friends with their convincing display of mutual affection. The presence of Jasper Nott amongst the latter had certainly helped to smooth things over – he appeared to consider himself and Rose old friends; something about sharing a lift together one morning – although he hadn’t missed the opportunity to embarrass them both by regaling the nearby crowd with stories of their infamous work spats and rivalry.</p><p>Damian Belby had huffed out a pompous laugh at that. “And I thought pulling pigtails only worked when we were nine, ey, Scorp?”</p><p>Scorpius had chuckled, but only because he’d spotted the discreet look of distaste that Rose was giving the man, who also appeared to have a dribble of salad dressing down the front of his shirt.</p><p>All in all, they seemed to be doing rather well, Scorpius thought, allowing himself a glimmer of hope. They’d stuck neatly to their agreed story – the blind date set up by a mutual friend, the proposal late one night at the British Museum. Were they living together? Why yes, they <em>actually</em> were. And Rose didn’t miss the chance to throw in the ‘adorable’ story of how he’d tripped and made a fool of himself the first time he’d attempted to use her Floo. It went down a treat with Nott and Belby, in particular.</p><p>Throughout it all, Rose’s hand never left his, although her grip did loosen slightly as she relaxed into her role, much to the relief of his blood circulation. They smiled at each other in apparent fondness, exchanged seemingly loving glances. Rose barely even flinched when Scorpius reached across to tuck a flyaway curl behind her ear, just as one of the bolder press photographers flashed a camera in their faces.</p><p>In fact, he was just beginning to believe that they might actually pull this off, when he heard the unmistakable chime of someone ringing a silver spoon against crystal-cut glass. He turned, abruptly, and paled at the apparent source.</p><p>His father, it seemed, was intending on making a speech. Something – Scorpius suspected, judging by the singularly uncomfortable expression on the older man’s face – that he had been heavily strong-armed into by his mother.</p><p>“Sweet Salazar,” he hissed through clenched teeth. <em>Would this torture never cease?</em></p><p>Rose sidled closer. “Should we stop him?” she whispered into his shoulder. But it was a little too late for that.</p><p>“Esteemed guests and friends,” Draco Malfoy’s voice carried across the grounds, courtesy of the Sonorous Charm. “My wife… and I,” he added, begrudgingly, “are delighted to welcome you here today to celebrate the recent announcement that our son, Scorpius, and the lovely Miss Rose Weasley are engaged to be wed. This news comes to many of you, as it did to us, as something of a surprise —”</p><p>Scorpius noted the subtle hitch in his father’s voice. His mother had almost certainly performed a discreet Stinging Hex, as was her modus operandi whenever she needed her husband to behave.</p><p>“— But what a <em>wonderful </em>surprise, it was,” Draco continued a little sheepishly. “We look forward to welcoming Miss Weasley into our family and all the joy that their union will bring, not only to them, but to all of us here today. So, I would like us all to raise a glass, and toast to the happy couple.”</p><p>A hundred pairs of eyes swung directly to land on Rose and Scorpius. The happy couple flinched.</p><p>Those nearest to them seemed to shuffle away, as if leaving them marooned on their own tiny island in a sea of unwanted attention. Scorpius’ pulse sped, and he felt Rose press closer in to his side. He glanced down at her, noting her nervous gulp at the sudden weight of everyone’s unadulterated focus. Instinctively, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. </p><p>His mother was beaming at them through the crowd, thankfully oblivious to their discomfort. “To Scorpius and Rose,” she continued in his father’s stead. “May your lives together be filled with unconditional love and happiness.”</p><p>The crowd around them raised their glasses. The <em>Prophet </em>photographers inched in closer. Rose and Scorpius stared blankly at a sea of expectant faces. A seemingly infinite moment passed, and the crowd continued to stare back at them.</p><p>“Er, I think you’re meant to kiss now,” Belby sniggered at them from behind.</p><p>Scorpius’ eyebrows shot for his hairline.</p><p>He felt Rose flinch and freeze up beside him, as though she’d just been struck by a Body-Bind Curse. “They can’t be serious?” he heard her hiss through clenched teeth.</p><p>But they were very serious, by the looks of things. He glanced quickly at the waiting crowd, eyes darting between each face, alight with anticipation, and tried to ascertain just when every single person here had gone entirely mad.</p><p>But, of course, they weren’t mad, were they? Because they’d just spent the better part of an afternoon convincing these same people that they were not only engaged, but very much in love. And people in love kissed. They even went so-far as to enjoy kissing. In fact, kissing was a rather integral part of being in a loving and consensual adult relationship.</p><p>And that’s when Scorpius realised there was absolutely no way out of this – he was going to have to snog Rose bloody Weasley, right here in front of a hundred strong crowd and half the staff of <em>The Daily Prophet. </em></p><p>Rose, it seemed, had come to a similar conclusion, although she was probably taking it slightly worse, if that were indeed possible. She appeared to be having a very discreet panic attack, judging by the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the fact that her eyes were as round as saucers when she turned to stare up at him in horror, and that she was suddenly almost as red as her hair.</p><p>She clocked his furrowed brow and look of deep contemplation and swore under her breath. “If you value your life, Malfoy, you won’t even finish that thought,” she whispered, heatedly.</p><p>Scorpius did value his life. But he also valued not being outed as a giant fraud and finding himself married off against his will.</p><p>“Do you have a better idea?” he ground out.</p><p>Rose pulled a face – evidently, she did not.</p><p>
  <em>Bugger.</em>
</p><p>Scorpius felt acutely aware of how dry his mouth had just become. His hand – still clenched with Rose’s – felt clammy, an uncomfortable warmth prickling at the back of his neck. His gaze, locked with hers, slid down to her lips. He watched as her tongue darted out nervously to wet them, her intense blush disappearing beneath the neckline of her dress.</p><p>Then – as if this was some sort of out-of-body experience and he was floating elsewhere, no longer in control of his traitorous limbs – he felt himself lift a hand till it was resting against the curve of her jaw. Her pulse jumped to meet his fingertips.</p><p>Scorpius frowned and dipped his head an inch. Rose winced and tilted her chin up a centimetre or so. They both squeezed their eyes shut as if bracing for an impending broom collision, and then, the next thing either of them knew, his lips landed squarely on hers.  </p><p>His initial reaction was surprise at how very warm she felt to the touch. Her breath ghosted lightly over his cheek, her skin delicate and soft as his nose bumped hers. Neither of them moved for the longest moment and then – and both would deny it was them until the end of time – <em>somebody </em>parted their lips, just a fraction, and it was as if instinct took over.</p><p>Scorpius dropped his hand from her cheek to her waist, pulling her close against him. He felt her fingers slide into the hair at the base of his skull, her head tilting to allow him a little better access. Her lips were soft and compliant – so unlike the woman who possessed them – and when she sighed faintly against his mouth, it sent an unusual thrill rippling through him that made his grip tighten on the fabric of her dress.</p><p>He was vaguely aware of the cheer that went up around them from the spectating crowd – an awareness that faded rather rapidly when he realised that his tongue was now moving against Rose’s tongue. Which meant that his tongue must be in her mouth, or her tongue was in his, and Merlin only knew how either of them had got there because he definitely didn’t remember doing that, but it didn’t actually feel all that horrendous.</p><p>In fact, it actually felt pretty…nice.</p><p>She must have had a similar realisation about the whereabouts of one or the other of their tongues shortly afterwards, because he suddenly felt her pull back – lips snapping shut, head jerking away – and he opened his eyes to find her staring back at him in poorly disguised bewilderment.</p><p>Well, <em>that</em> he could most certainly relate to, Scorpius thought, his chest heaving, as no one was more surprised than him right now.</p><p>He had just snogged Rose Weasley and… despite the several dozen, weirdly invested onlookers… he’d really rather enjoyed it.</p><p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Rita Skeeter, Evaline Rosier, and our two lovebirds start doing their homework. </p><p>ET (don't forget to say hello - I could talk about these fools alllll day)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Quarrels & Quills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year to all! As we all stumble blindly into the light of 2021, let us remember: tropes are for life, not just for Christmas. And you're not going to shake me off that easily. </p><p>Apologies for the wait for Ch.6 - I lost all sense of time and meaning roughly around December 21st, until I emerged from a food-induced stupor almost two weeks later. I hope you're all keeping safe and well in these weird times, which just keep on getting weirder and weirder, don't they? As we head into national lockdown (...what is this? Number 3...12?) here in the UK, I have only huge love for you all and your lovely comments/messages on this story that really are one of the few things keeping me sane these days!</p><p>Arnel 63 has triumphed again over the comma chaos I presented to her. Any and all remaining mistakes are my fault, for not reading her brilliant edits properly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose was only half listening to whatever banal anecdote Damian Belby was regaling her with, down in the south-west corner of the garden. In all honesty, it was a rather rambling affair, involving one too many name-drops of old Slytherin cronies for Rose to keep track of, and she’d lost the thread entirely when he’d started talking about the financial trajectory of his recently acquired shares in owl pellets.</p><p>But the real problem, of course, was that her mind was elsewhere… Specifically, ruminating on a kiss. One that had been unceremoniously thrust upon her, in the middle of a crowd of onlookers, and from a man she rather vehemently disliked. And yet, to her utmost irritation, it had still – <em>somehow</em> – been a bloody good kiss.</p><p>Her gaze sought out Malfoy over the rim of her champagne flute. They’d parted ways rather abruptly after their awkward smooch – their mutual desire to get as far away from each other as possible taking precedent over their ‘safety in numbers’ strategy – and he was hiding somewhere over by a unicorn shaped topiary, chatting to someone she didn’t recognise. Whoever it was, he seemed unusually relaxed with, however, judging from the easy grin he was now sporting, and the casual set of his shoulders.</p><p>It really was a shame he was such an unredeemable arsehole, Rose mused, as he was actually quite a handsome bugger.</p><p>And, suddenly, she’d sent herself into a choking fit, as she almost spat her mouthful of champagne out through her nose. <em>Merlin almighty</em>, where did that come from?!</p><p>She spluttered and coughed until Jasper Nott wordlessly passed her a handkerchief. Rose wheezed out a ‘thank-you’, quickly disposing of the rest of her drink into a nearby shrub as it had evidently been spiked with a Confusing Concoction. Either that or she’d been out in the sun for far too long and had apparently developed heat stroke.</p><p>Maybe she ought to eat something, she wondered, dabbing at the tears that pricked her eyes and peering out into the crowd for some sign that food was about to be served. Contrary to Scorpius’ earlier promises, she’d yet to get her hands on anything more substantial than a canape – which, in her opinion, was nothing more than an artist’s impression of food, really. Something that evoked the briefest memory of a meal without actually helping to line her stomach for the free-flowing champagne that surrounded her.</p><p>This so-called ‘small luncheon’ was turning out to be a misnomer in more ways than one.</p><p>“Who is that, with Scorpius?” she asked Nott between splutters, more to distract herself from the grumbling of her stomach than out of any actual curiosity.</p><p>He frowned, peering over her head to eyeball Malfoy and his friend across the lawn. “Oh, that’s Eve.”</p><p>Rose stared at him, blankly. Jasper quirked his eyebrows in surprise.</p><p>“Evaline Rosier…you two haven’t met, yet?”</p><p>Rose shook her head. The name had a familiar ring to it, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. The woman looked roughly the same age as her, give or take a year or two, so she supposed it was possible they’d attended Hogwarts together. As Albus always liked to remind her, Rose had spent her school years nestled in a happy little Gryffindor bubble, and had always been woefully uninformed about any wider school gossip as a result.</p><p>“Should I have?” she glanced back at Nott.</p><p>He shrugged. “She and Scorpius are fairly close, that’s all. Childhood friends, in fact.”</p><p>Rose was barely able to mask her surprise. Primarily at the concept of Malfoy as a child, as she found it hard to imagine that someone so snide and grumpy hadn’t simply sauntered out of his mother’s womb as a fully grown tosspot. But also, at the very idea that anyone would have wanted to be friends with him.</p><p>Nott and Belby didn’t count, of course. Jasper seemed like someone who only played nicely with others when it suited him, and Belby… well, he was one of the worst human beings she’d ever had the misfortune to meet, so of course he’d want to chummy up with Malfoy.</p><p>Rose craned her neck, trying to get a better view of this woman, who was either deranged or a woefully poor judge of character. She certainly didn’t <em>look </em>like a lunatic. In fact, she looked like one of the most well put-together people that Rose had ever seen. Dark, glossy hair flowed sleekly over one shoulder, her porcelain skin almost seemed to glow in the bright summer sunshine, and her posture – <em>Merlin! </em>Rose immediately felt the need to try and stand a little taller, in an effort to emulate this elegant goddess.</p><p>She watched as Scorpius leaned in to mutter something in the Rosier woman’s ear, whose face broke out into a wide, shiny smile as she laughed, chastising Malfoy with a playful slap on his arm.</p><p>Rose’s eyebrows shot for her hairline.</p><p>“I know what you’re thinking,” Jasper, who had apparently been watching as she gawked, unsubtly, at this unprovoked display of affection, sidled up beside her with a snigger, “but it’s nothing like that.”</p><p>Rose wasn’t even sure what she’d been thinking, herself, so she highly doubted that Nott had the inside track.</p><p>“There’s never been anything more between them but friendship,” he continued, “and they’ve known each other a lifetime. Although…” he bent his head to hers, conspiratorially, “…rumour had it, before you came along, there <em>was</em> talk of a possible arrangement between the two families.”</p><p>“Because of the oath, you mean?” It had slipped out before Rose even registered what she was saying. Perhaps one too many champagne bubbles had crossed the blood-brain barrier, it seemed.</p><p>“You know about that?” Jasper eyed her with interest.</p><p>“Oh, err, Scorpius told me, of course. We tell each other everything.”</p><p>Thankfully, he chuckled, good-naturedly. “Merlin, you two saps really are head over heels, aren’t you?”</p><p>Rose smiled tightly. “Utterly in each other’s thrall, yes. You were saying… about an arrangement, of sorts?”</p><p>“Right, well,” Jasper cleared his throat, “that type of thing used to happen all the time, of course, but became less popular after the war. Nowadays, having ‘an arrangement’ with another family is less to do with making a suitable match and more about having a fail-safe. A way to avoid triggering the blood-oath, should an heir of one of the families find themselves on the wrong side of twenty-five without a spouse.”</p><p>Rose was having to work very hard to keep her curiosity from showing. It hadn’t occurred to her that blood-oaths were quite so endemic in the wider Pureblood community. Foolishly – and perhaps a little ignorantly – she’d assumed it was only a Malfoy family blight. Apparently, they were quite the fashionable thing, along with having expensive taste in dress robes and perplexingly large back gardens.</p><p>“And the Malfoys had one of these arrangements with the Rosiers?” Rose asked, her brow furrowed.</p><p>Jasper smiled wryly and took a sip of his drink. “I can’t say for certain… these things aren’t usually fodder for polite conversation, you understand. But my father, rest his soul, enjoyed a good gossip after a few glasses of Elf-made wine, and he and Malfoy senior were close at one point. Apparently, Draco had reached out to the Rosier family after our dear Scorpius broke up with his last serious girlfriend a few years ago…” he trailed off, shooting her an awkward glance. “My apologies, Weasley, I hope this isn’t making you uncomfortable?”</p><p>Rose scoffed, “Why on Earth would it make me uncomfortable?” She was, in fact, itching to hear more.</p><p>“Well,” Jasper arched an eyebrow, “this <em>is</em> your fiancé we’re talking about… your dearly beloved… potentially being married off to another woman.”</p><p>“Ah…yes, quite. My inner green-eyed monster is positively raging, I assure you.”</p><p>He snorted into his scotch. “Merlin, your marital home is going to be a cesspit of sarcasm; remind me never to visit. Of course, now I see why you and Malfoy used to get into so many spats at work. You’re really very alike.”</p><p>Rose smiled, tightly, and tried to recall if she’d ever felt so insulted. “Yes… we’re a match made in heaven.”</p><p>“Funny, really,” Nott continued, as he grabbed himself another drink from a passing tray. “If it weren’t for your mother, the oath might have even thrown you together all by itself.”</p><p>Rose blinked up at him, her train of thought derailed. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>“Well, there’s almost something pre-destined about it, isn’t there?” he cocked his head, thoughtfully. “Your family were equally eligible to be called upon by the oath until your parents married. You and your cousins have all had rather a lucky escape in that way, I suppose,” he laughed, jovially. “But even without the oath, you and Scorpius have still found yourselves drawn together. I mean – <em>Circe </em>– don’t tell him or Belby that I said any of this romantic tosh, but there <em>is</em> something fairly serendipitous about it all, you have to agree?”</p><p>But Rose didn’t have the wherewithal to agree to anything at that moment. Her brain and all of its secondary functions had entirely short-circuited, roughly around the point where Nott had casually brought up her parents.  </p><p>What on Earth did he mean, that her family had once been eligible?</p><p>Her brow furrowing, she gave her head a little shake, as if trying to jostle all these new pieces of information she’d just been handed into place, trying to see the bigger picture.</p><p>“Sorry,” she frowned up at Jasper. Maybe it was the several glasses of champagne she’d already had, but she was really struggling to make any sense out of it, at all. “How does my mother relate to any of this?”</p><p>Immediately on the defensive, Jasper’s ears turned pink. “Apologies, Weasley, I don’t mean to offend…”</p><p>Rose could only stare at him – she wasn’t offended, she was just confused. And that was really nobodies’ fault but Malfoy’s, because he refused to bloody tell her anything.</p><p>“It’s not as though our generation still put any stock in all of that ‘purity’ nonsense…” he continued, grimacing at the very notion, “but the oath is centuries old; ancient magic… From a time when one’s heritage and one’s blood was still held, by some, above all else. Including – I’m sorry to say – by my great-uncle, who apparently fancied himself as something of an author. Consequently, your family’s entry in the book, and their commitment to the oath, would have ended the day your father married a Muggle-born.”</p><p>Purity. Family. Book.</p><p>And like a bucket of icy water to the face, Rose was doused with a sudden and unpleasant wave of understanding.</p><p>“<em>Merlin almighty</em>,” she groaned, feeling a sudden desire to curl up into the foetal position right there in the middle of the lawn. “The blood-oath is between <em>The</em> <em>Sacred Twenty-Eight</em>, isn’t it?”</p><p>Jasper, for his part, now seemed immensely confused. “Well, yes, of course… I thought you said you knew —”</p><p>But Rose wasn’t listening any more. <em>Sweet Helga</em> – she was going to bloody well <em>Avada</em> Malfoy! The way he’d sold it to her, this marriage pact was nothing but a silly little family in-joke, something he was ‘<em>oh so sure’ </em>he could get out of, with a few reversal charms and a choice incantation or two. Easy-peasy. First-year stuff. Child’s play.</p><p>What he’d seemingly neglected to mention, was that his pesky little oath was actually a centuries old magical tradition, created and sealed with the blood of <em>twenty-fucking-eight </em>of the most powerful families in Wizarding Britain. One that he was apparently attempting to undo with a one-man kamikaze mission, tucked away in her spare bedroom with a couple of textbooks.</p><p>The idiotic, arrogant twit.</p><p>Jasper was fidgeting nervously beside her. “Look, Weasley, I’m a little lost but I think I might have over-stepped —"</p><p>“Not at all, Nott. This has been a most enlightening conversation,” Rose cut him off, her jaw tense, her glare seeking out the familiar shock of platinum hair through the surrounding crowd. “But, if you’ll excuse me, I think I ought to have a little chat with my fiancé.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Rose intercepted Scorpius just as he’d excused himself from his little tete-a-tete with Evaline, practically pouncing on him from behind the unicorn-shaped topiary and startling him half to death. And, if the sheer surprise of seeing her speed towards him like a Doxy out for blood wasn’t enough to put the fear of Merlin into him, then the furious glare she was attempting to pierce his very soul with most definitely did the job.</p><p>In all honesty, he’d been purposely avoiding her for the last hour or so – ever since their rather public and painful kiss – and he’d yet to fully wrap his mind around the fact that kissing her hadn’t <em>actually</em> been the worst experience of his adult life…which, by his calculations, it really ought to have been. Now, here she was, up close and personal and <em>angry. </em></p><p>Definitely not ideal.</p><p>“What’s the matter, Weasley?” he snapped, wincing as he felt her foot very intentionally crush down on his toes. He glanced over her shoulder, checking for spectators, and caught sight of Jasper, who was bright red in the face and staring at them awkwardly. “Merlin, what have you done to Nott? He looks as if he might need a change of underwear.”</p><p>“Never mind about Nott,” she hissed up at him. “We need to talk.”</p><p>“Look, Weasley, it was just a kiss —”</p><p>“What? No! <em>Merlin</em>, not about that.” She pulled a face, even as her cheeks surged with colour. Scorpius felt a similar heat prickling at the tips of his ears. “Were you ever planning on telling me?!” she growled.</p><p>“Telling you what?”</p><p>“<em>The Sacred Twenty Eight?!</em>…I mean, <em>really,</em> Malfoy?!”</p><p>Scorpius’ face paled and he glanced furtively over her shoulder again, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, “Sweet Salazar, woman, keep your bloody voice down! Who told you about that?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” she snapped. “I can’t believe you’d be so utterly reckless, you moronic, irresponsible wanker —"</p><p>“I’m going to fucking <em>Avada </em>Nott,” Scorpius snarled, shooting his friend a dark look over Rose’s head which sent him scuttling off into the crowd.</p><p>Rose was still hissing obscenities at him and beginning to draw a few curious stares from the surrounding guests, including his father who – Scorpius spotted – was studying them from across the lawn with that annoyingly shrewd gaze of his. Muttering a few choice words of his own, Scorpius grabbed Rose by the shoulders, quickly manhandling her towards the house and away from prying eyes. She stumbled as he dragged her through the open French doors, over the threshold of one of the Manor’s many receiving rooms, and tugged her into a shady corner – flanked on one side by a heavy silk curtain to muffle their words, and a bust of Whimsy, his grandmother’s favourite house-elf, blocking them from view on the other.</p><p>Scorpius met her scowl with one of his own. “This is <em>exactly </em>why I didn’t want you poking your nose in —” he started, only to be cut off by two palms landing squarely on his chest as she shoved him back half a foot.</p><p>“Well, it’s a bloody good job I did, isn’t it?” she practically fizzed with rage. “Or else I’d have been completely blindsided when this complete and utter shit-show inevitably blows up in <em>both </em>of our faces.”</p><p>“It’s not going to be a shit-show,” he ground out. Although his voice lacked the necessary conviction, even to his ears.</p><p>“It’s <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em>, Malfoy,” she hissed. “No matter what I or history thinks of their bizarre inbreeding policies, this is powerful magic we’re dealing with. Did you honestly think you were going to find a way out of this all on your own?”</p><p>“‘<em>We’re’ </em>not dealing with anything. <em>I </em>am perfectly capable —”</p><p>“No. You’re not,” she cut him down to size with a growl and a glare. “Nobody is. Not by themselves. And we went to school together, remember, so I know you’re not actually as stupid as you’re pretending to be right now.”</p><p>Scorpius frowned – oddly, that was probably the nicest thing Weasley had ever said to him.</p><p>“Taking this oath on alone is foolish <em>and </em>dangerous,” she continued, hands coming to rest defiantly on her hips; a familiar power move that Scorpius recognised from their countless face-offs over budget cuts and policy politics… and when he regularly cut in front of her in the queue for the coffee shop. “And it’s not just yourself you’ve put at risk. Ever since you embroiled me in this ridiculous scheme, <em>I </em>am now equally vulnerable to whatever Dark magic you’re trying to mess with. Not to mention the inevitable public humiliation when you fail spectacularly because you were too arrogant to even consider asking for help!”</p><p>Scorpius folded his arms across his chest and glowered down his nose at her. “Is that what all this is about? You’re smarting because I don’t want your help?”</p><p>“No!” she yelled. Scorpius was surprised she hadn’t stamped her foot like the irate toddler she was. “I’m genuinely furious with you!”</p><p>“Evidently.” He rolled his eyes.</p><p>Rose let out something that sounded like a snarl of frustration, hew jaw working over itself as she dragged a hand through her hair, half undoing the knot she’d spent hours charming into place that morning. “This is <em>serious</em>, Malfoy,” she huffed. “More serious than you seem to realise, apparently. You should have told me this had to do with <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight </em>when you asked for my help.”</p><p>“I never asked for your help —”</p><p>“Proposed this stupid arrangement, then! Circe, Malfoy, <em>whatever</em>!” She did stomp her foot then, narrowly missing his toes for a second time and making the bust of Whimsy the house-elf wobble precariously on its plinth.</p><p>Scorpius grimaced. Begrudgingly, he realised, she had a point. He’d intentionally kept quiet about the specifics of the oath for fear she wouldn’t have agreed to his deal. And, when she’d offered to help with his research, he’d brushed her off because he didn’t want her to realise how very in over his head he was.</p><p>He didn’t have a plan. It had been four days since he’d accosted her in that fifth-floor bathroom, and he had yet to come across a single piece of useful information in the books he’d smuggled out of the Manor library. He had no clue how to break the oath, no idea where to start looking, even. He still had five months and twenty-six days to come up with a solution, of course, but he was starting to doubt that even that would allow him enough time to truly understand the complexities of what he was up against, and – more importantly – how to defeat it.</p><p>“And another thing!” Rose interrupted his spiral of despair. “I have no idea why you even bothered to involve me in all of this, when you very clearly had a much better option in the form of Evaline – I’m a walking goddess – Rosier! You could have just gone along with the arrangement between your families whilst you worked on breaking the oath, and left me out of this entirely!”</p><p>Scorpius stared at her, slightly taken aback. Where on Earth had that come from? He didn’t even think she knew Evaline… and how, in the name of Salazar’s left arse cheek, did she know about his father’s arrangement?</p><p>He really was going to have to give Nott a stern lesson in how to keep one’s fucking mouth shut.   </p><p>“That’s not… I don’t…” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Involving Evaline was never an option.”</p><p>Evidently, this answer did not placate Rose. Quite the opposite, in fact, judging from the scarlet flush of outrage that soaked her cheeks. “And yet throwing me straight to the lions was the obvious choice?!”</p><p>He huffed in frustration. “Look, I meant what I said about needing a business partner, someone with whom things wouldn’t get <em>messy</em>…” He winced; he supposed snogging in the middle of the lawn and then yelling at each other in a darkened corner didn’t have them off to a great start.</p><p>“I see,” Rose clipped, pursing her lips together, “and I suppose it was just too much of a risk that darling Evaline might fall even more in love with you?” She rolled her eyes, crossly.</p><p>Scorpius couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. It took Rose by surprise, who flinched and scowled at him.</p><p>“Nothing about this is funny, Malfoy,” she snarled.</p><p>“No…no, sorry,” he pressed his lips together even as his shoulders continued to shake. “It’s just…the idea of Evaline being in love with me… that Quaffle’s about six yards clear of the goal hoops, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“What?” Rose narrowed her eyes – evidently not a fan of quidditch analogies.</p><p>Scorpius composed himself with a clear of his throat. “Let’s just say, I’m not her type. And, for reasons I am not at liberty to disclose, getting engaged to Evaline would have been even more problematic for her than it already has been for you.”</p><p>Rose stared at him, her face a picture of confused indignation. He could practically see the cogs turning over as her brow furrowed, an internal battle raging between her natural curiosity and her current desire to rip him to shreds.</p><p>“What does that even mean?” she hissed, throwing him another poisonous glare to balance the scales.</p><p>Luckily, or perhaps unluckily as it turned out, Scorpius was saved from having to explain himself any further by a small entourage striding into the room through the open French doors. His mother led the way, animatedly enquiring about the advantages of natural light with one of <em>The Prophet </em>photographers. And, behind them, came one of the fiercest looking witches that Scorpius had ever seen. With her bottle blonde curls piled high on her head, blood red lips tightly pursed and jewel-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of an upturned nose – Rita Skeeter swept the room with the gaze of a predator honing in on its prey. Her eyes seemed to glow as she landed on the two of them huddled in the corner, her painted lips pulling back into a rapacious smile.</p><p>“And there they are!” she declared, summoning her aide to her side with a quick snap of her fingers, who jumped forward as if struck by lightning, brandishing a notepad and one of Skeeter’s trademark Quick Quotes Quills. “Our guests of honour, our young romantics. The embodiment of love triumphing against all odds.”</p><p>She tipped her head towards the acid green quill hovering nearby, and began dictating: “We find our lovebirds snatching a few private moments in a secluded corner. Interrupting this intimate scene feels almost a travesty of Shakespearean proportion…”</p><p>Scorpius balked. “<em>Merlin,</em> give me strength,” he heard Rose curse through her teeth.</p><p>Astoria, whose happy glow had only seemed to shine brighter throughout the course of the afternoon, beckoned them over towards one of the antique loveseats. “We <em>are </em>sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but we thought now might be a suitable moment to have a nice little chat with Ms Skeeter?”</p><p>Scorpius highly doubted that anyone in the history of the Wizarding World had ever had a <em>‘nice little chat’ </em>with the infamous battle-axe of the society pages, but he plastered on a smile, nonetheless.</p><p>“Of course, mother,” he muttered, benevolently, reaching for Rose’s hand to continue on with their show of pre-marital bliss, only for her to subtly jerk it out of reach. He locked eyes with her, trying to convey that now really wasn’t the time to be nurturing her latest grudge against him, but all he was met with was a cold stare.</p><p>Brilliant.</p><p>He gritted his teeth together and stepped into line behind her as she marched across the room.</p><p>“Why don’t we start with a few shots of the happy couple?” Rita snapped her fingers again and her photographer sprang into action this time. She eyed the two of them – sitting rigidly at opposite ends of the sofa – and pursed her lips. “Perhaps something a little more candid? Why don’t you move closer to Mr Malfoy, dear?” she levelled a pointed stare at Rose.</p><p>When it became apparent that Rose had no intention of moving a muscle, Scorpius hauled himself across the divide, till they were nestled together snugly. To her credit, Rose did manage to keep the displeasure off her face, although it was abundantly clear to Scorpius in the bristle of her shoulders and the clench of her jaw as he slung his arm around her waist.</p><p>“<em>Much</em> better,” Rita crooned, nodding to her photographer who scurried into place and immediately thrust his camera into their faces.</p><p>“Chin up, dear,” Rita circled behind him. Rose begrudgingly complied. “That’s it, now lean into Mr Malfoy a little more – <em>goodness, </em>anyone would think you barely knew each other, come on dear – smile properly now, show some <em>teeth</em>.”    </p><p>Scorpius could practically see Rose’s pulse pounding in her carotids. He could feel the irritation rolling off of her in waves, and knew that if he didn’t step in soon, the headline in tomorrow’s paper would likely read: <strong><em>‘A Skeeter Exposé: Malfoy and Weasley in bizarre marriage sham – friends and family upset and baffled’</em></strong>, probably with a secondary bi-line about Rose being arrested for aggravated assault on their photographer. So, he did the only thing he could think of and snatched her hand up in his.</p><p>At first, Rose flinched in surprise, trying to tug her hand free as subtly as she could whilst frowning at him over her shoulder. But he bent his head to hers quickly, and whispered: “I know you hate me right now, that message has been received loud and clear, but we <em>need </em>this to go well, remember? So … every time you feel like crushing Skeeter like the bug that she is, pretend my hand is her and crush my knuckles however you see fit.”</p><p>Rose stared at him for a moment more, even as Rita barked at her to sit up straight and bemoaned the fact that her red hair threw the entire composition off kilter, before – <em>surprisingly</em> – mouthing him a <em>‘thank you’ </em>and turning her sights back on the camera lens.</p><p>Of course, Scorpius deeply regretted this little plan of his as she took up a vice like grip around his fingers almost immediately. In fact, by the time Rita shoo-ed the photographer away and took a seat across from them, her Quick Quotes Quill bobbing at her shoulder, he feared he may have lost all motor and sensory function below his elbow. But at least Rose had relaxed somewhat, in that she wasn’t vibrating with barely suppressed rage or trying to murder Skeeter with the sheer force of her glare anymore.</p><p>“Now then,” Rita smiled at them and Scorpius noticed that the top half of her face didn’t move very much. He wondered how much facial spell-work she’d had done over the last decade. “I’d first like to extend congratulations from all of us at <em>The Daily Prophet</em> and, of course, from our many readers, at the news of your recent engagement.”</p><p>Rose looked away, crossly, across the room.</p><p>Scorpius smiled tightly, “Thank you.”   </p><p>“I thought we might start with the tale of how the two of you first met?” she peered at them expectantly from behind her bedazzled spectacles. “Miss Weasley, perhaps you’d care to —”</p><p>“No,” Rose snapped, abruptly – causing Scorpius to have what a Muggle Healer might term a minor coronary event – before she managed to pull herself together. “What I mean to say is, Scorpius tells the story so well…” She waved her free hand loosely towards him.</p><p>He exhaled slowly. Fine. This was all going to be fine. As long as she was still willing to play along, he supposed he didn’t need her to bring her A-game at every moment. He could handle this.  </p><p>He straightened in his seat, “Certainly, my love. Well… we attended school together, of course, but it wasn’t until we both worked at The Ministry that Rose, here, really came to my attention.” He heard Rose let out an indelicate snort beside him, but he persevered. “Although as many of our colleagues will tell you, our working relationship wasn’t always the most amiable…”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Skeeter inched forward in her chair, her razor thin eyebrows jumping skyward. “I’ve heard you were quite the menace to one another before you became romantically involved. Do you think that was actually because of the unspoken attraction between you both? A profound sexual tension bubbling beneath the surface, manifesting in attempts to dominate one another in the workplace, when all you really wanted was to dominate each other in the —"  </p><p>“Have you been talking to Martin Creevey?” Rose interrupted with a scowl.</p><p>Scorpius brushed it off with laugh, even as he shifted uncomfortably on his mother’s antique loveseat. “I think what Rose is trying to say, is that you’re not the first person to suggest that. Although, I’m afraid, I can safely say our feelings towards each other only began to change after a fortuitous blind date.”</p><p>Rita looked momentarily crestfallen. “I see…and where exactly did this momentous date take place?”</p><p>Ah. They hadn’t actually covered this in their little strategy meeting earlier in the week and there was nothing Scorpius enjoyed less than having to answer off-the-cuff. He paused for a moment too long it seemed, as Rita’s Quick Quotes Quill tapped impatiently on the notepad.</p><p>“A restaurant –”</p><p>“At an art gallery –” he and Rose answered in unison, then turned to frown at one another in annoyance.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Rita’s brow furrowed.</p><p>“Err, well,” Scorpius cleared his throat, “first we went for dinner, and then to an art gallery… it was quite a long evening, actually.”</p><p>Rita’s gaze darted between the two of them. “And which restaurant would that be? I’m sure my readers are just dying to know, and the devil really is in the details, as they say. Perhaps our food critic could visit and write an accompanying segment?”</p><p>“It was a little Muggle place,” Rose jumped in, then. “You definitely wouldn’t have heard of it and I doubt your readers would be interested.”</p><p>“It was very charming, though,” Scorpius added, not wanting the circulation of <em>The Daily Prophet </em>to think he was a cheapskate. “Authentic Italian cuisine, with an excellent wine list. A real hidden gem of Muggle London.”</p><p>“Oh?” Rita’s interest was piqued.</p><p>Rose flashed him a cross look. “<em>So</em> hidden, in fact, that we can’t even remember its name or how to get there, can we, darling?” He felt her hand squeeze his uncomfortably.</p><p>“Right, yes. Quite so.” He smiled thinly at Skeeter. “Which is a travesty, I assure you.”</p><p>Rita stared at them both in bemusement. “How… unfortunate. Well, perhaps we should move on to something a little less complicated? Why don’t you tell me who we have to thank for the impending nuptials? This mutual friend of yours, this astute individual who could see through the fog of your apparent loathing for one another to the compatible chemistry beneath, who was that exactly?  </p><p>Another obvious question, that they really should have been expecting. And one that he had absolutely no idea how to answer. “They…”</p><p>“Wish to remain anonymous, actually.” Rose finished for him.</p><p>Rita looked utterly perplexed. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>Rose smiled at her benignly. “With all of the attention we’ve been receiving since our engagement was announced, they asked us specifically not to name them in the press.”</p><p>“How ridiculous,” Rita scoffed. “Whyever not?”</p><p>“Err, well,” Rose fumbled, “they’re worried that when people see what an obvious success <em>our </em>being set up was, all sorts of people will be asking them to play match-maker and they… well, they simply don’t have the time.” She shrugged, apologetically.</p><p>“Very well,” Rita clipped, evidently starting to grow impatient with them. She shook her head sharply at the acid-green quill floating beside her, and Scorpius watched as it scratched off yet another question from her list. They were going to have to start playing ball soon, he realised, or who knew what might end up in tomorrow’s paper. “Let’s talk about the two of you, together, shall we? Your relationship – which, by all accounts, has been something of a whirlwind. I’d have thought <em>that</em>, at least, would be a topic you’d be eager to discuss.”</p><p>Both he and Rose shifted uncomfortably beside each other.</p><p>“My sources tell me that you have only recently moved in together. How is that going?”</p><p>Scorpius thought of himself being hurled, headfirst, out of her fireplace. Of Howler’s erupting in the living room. Of Rose yelling at him last night and then again over breakfast, and again for reading her notes, and then again when he barged into the bathroom to try and hurry her along as she dressed for the luncheon.</p><p>“Swimmingly,” he deadpanned. Rose coughed into her hand beside him.</p><p>“And how have your families reacted to the news?”</p><p>Scorpius nodded towards the French windows, at the crowd still milling about the lawn, and the party still in full swing. “As you can see, mine are delighted.”</p><p>“And yours, Miss Weasley?” Rita turned her gaze on Rose, and Scorpius got the feeling that this was a fairly loaded question.</p><p>Rose returned her stare evenly, however. “Surprised,” was all she said.</p><p>When it became clear that neither of them were going to be any more forthcoming, Rita let out a huff of frustration. “Here’s an idea, why don’t we play a little game? I want you each to describe the other in three words, the three qualities that you love most about the other person. Do you think you can manage that?”</p><p>Scorpius narrowly avoided scoffing aloud.  </p><p>“Don’t be shy,” Rita pursed her painted lips at them. “This is a perfectly safe space for intimate conversation.” Easy for her to forget the hundreds of people that would be reading this over their morning Pixie Puffs, apparently. “Mr Malfoy, why don’t you go first. What do you love most about Miss Weasley in three words?”</p><p>He stared back at the pinched and painted woman in front of him. Anyone who claimed that either Grindelwald or Voldemort had been the biggest menace to Wizarding society over the ages, had clearly not had the misfortune of coming up against one Rita Skeeter.</p><p>“<em>Surely</em>, you can think of three little words to describe your future wife, Mr Malfoy?” Rita arched one pencilled eyebrow, almost accusingly. Beside him, Rose had gone very still – a quick glance in her direction confirmed she was, in fact, glaring at Skeeter with the fire of a thousand suns.</p><p>Well, <em>that</em> was one thing he certainly <em>didn’t </em>admire about Weasley, Scorpius thought – a complete and utter lack of subtlety in everything she did. Everything was always out in the open, in your face…loud…brash. It was almost as if she had too many feelings, like she could never seem to contain them all in the moment.</p><p>“She’s…passionate,” he said, suddenly, almost surprising himself. “About her work, I mean. And her interests. She cares very deeply about everything she does.”</p><p>Rita nodded encouragingly. “Yes, go on, go on.” Her quill scribbled into action. Rose’s glare had faltered, and she was now blinking up at him like a startled Mooncalf.  </p><p>Scorpius stared back at the red-head, who had apparently been rendered mute by the fact he had a single kind word to say about her. How very unlike her, he thought. She, who he can never normally get to shut up. She, who was usually so quick to call him out or insult him, or cut him down to size with a clever jibe or two.</p><p>“She can also be rather witty, on occasion,” he added, to Skeeter’s delight. “She even manages to keep up with me, some days.” He caught Rose’s eye roll out of the corner of his eye and grinned.</p><p>“Excellent, Mr Malfoy. My readers are going to eat this up, I can tell you. And what’s the third thing you love most about Miss Weasley?”</p><p>He looked back at the woman beside him, watched as that trade-mark blush of hers erupted across her cheeks. And why he said what he said next, he could honestly claim to have no idea. The word had jumped into his mouth before his brain had chance to censor it.</p><p>“Freckles.”</p><p>Of course, he regretted it almost immediately. Rita gushed, enthusiastically, nodding along with her Quick Quotes Quill that had written something suspiciously along the lines of <em>‘Mr Malfoy likens Miss Weasley’s freckles to a map of the stars, guiding him home…’</em></p><p>Glancing away in displeasure, Scorpius found Rose still watching him with an expression of utter incomprehension. He shrugged at her, then looked upward to study the ceiling moulding and tried to pretend she didn’t exist, even whilst they were still holding hands.</p><p>“Now your turn, Miss Weasley.” Rita turned on Rose. “And I’m sure you won’t struggle after hearing such affectionate words from our young Romeo, just then. What three things do you love most about Mr Malfoy?”</p><p><em>This ought to be good</em>, Scorpius thought, eyes still trained on a lighting sconce.</p><p>“He’s…” Rose paused, seemingly having an equally hard time trying to name three positive attributes about her supposed future spouse, “…intelligent, and he knows how to keep a cool head in a crisis. And…” Scorpius glanced down at her just as her blush took on a life of its own, cascading down her neck as if she’d been hit by a Warming Charm. “…Cheekbones.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Half an hour later and they were finally free of Rita Skeeter’s personal brand of torture.</p><p>She and her photographer and that blasted quill of hers had taken their leave from the party, presumably heading back to their evil headquarters where they would write up whatever hideous, twisted version of their words they saw fit. Scorpius and Rose’s only hope was that their incredibly awkward display had done enough to convince Skeeter that they were, indeed, <em>‘the embodiment of love triumphing against all odds’</em>, as she’d put it, and not two giant phonies who felt like they were really rather making a hash out of things.</p><p>They sat in silence on the loveseat – having just dispatched with Skeeter and still in a mild state of shock – each privately reflecting on the exquisite discomfort of the last hour, along with the day as a whole.</p><p>Rose was staring at her hands, clasped in her lap, and had gone so quiet you’d be forgiven for thinking she’d perished out of sheer humiliation. Scorpius, who had moved back to the safety of the opposite end of the sofa, had his head in his hands and was currently ruminating on the great Freckles/Cheekbones debacle.</p><p>“Well.” It was Rose who managed to find her voice first. “That was an unmitigated disaster.”</p><p>Scorpius looked up at her with a drawn expression.</p><p>“This isn’t going to work, Malfoy. Not if we keep at each other’s throats like this.” She looked tired; she <em>sounded </em>tired. “I almost can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to start playing as a team. We’re going to have to find a way to trust each other if we want things to actually go our way for once.”  </p><p>Scorpius sat in quiet contemplation for another moment, before slowly rising to his feet, as if he’d aged about fifty years in the last sixty minutes. He held out a hand to her, “Come on. I want to show you something.”</p><p>Hesitantly, Rose let him lead her out of the room in the direction away from the party. He carved a path through the Manor that led them along ornate corridors and magnificent receiving rooms, and Rose could barely take it all in as he marched them swiftly along.</p><p>A final left turn found them in a low-lit hallway. Here, the oak panelling of the walls was partially hidden every two feet or so by a large, gilded portrait, each with a burnished brass nameplate beneath.</p><p>Letting go of Scorpius’ hand, Rose moved cautiously towards the closest portrait. Its occupant was fast asleep but even so, the cut of his robes, the permanent sneer, made him a formidable figure. She glanced at the nameplate: <em>Abraxas Malfoy; 1875 – 1989</em></p><p>“My great-grandfather,” Scorpius drew up beside her and frowned at the portrait. “Supposedly, he was behind the plot that unseated Minister Leach, a political opponent of his in the 1960’s.”</p><p>Scorpius nudged her along, stopping in front of another portrait – a woman this time – who glared down at them with reproach. “Vinda Rosier,” he explained. “My great-great-<em>great</em> aunt on my grandmother’s side. Believed to have been one of Grindelwald’s inner circle.”</p><p>“Rosier?” Rose arched an eyebrow at him.</p><p>He chuckled, darkly. “Now, now, Weasley. You’re too high-brow to resort to making in-breeding jokes, surely?”</p><p>“Sadly true,” she sighed. She turned then, moving to the opposite side of the corridor. “What about this one?” The nameplate read <em>Lucius Malfoy I; 1533 – 1642</em>. The subject sneered at her as she approached, before turning his attention back to a platter of roasted pheasant.</p><p>“Ah, my grandfather’s name-sake. Legend goes, he put a jinx on Queen Elizabeth I after she refused his hand in marriage.”</p><p>Rose blinked up at the portrait, watching him sink his teeth into the meat as if he hadn’t been eating the very same dish every day for the last few hundred years. “What kind of jinx?”</p><p>“Probably something dark,” Scorpius shrugged, his hands sinking deep into his pockets. “Something that probably explains why she never entertained any more potential husbands for the rest of her life.”   </p><p>Rose stared down the dimly-lit hallway – there had to be over twenty or thirty portraits lining the walls, each as imposing as the last, disappearing into the shadows where her eyesight couldn’t quite reach. She turned to face Scorpius who was still eyeing Lucius I with distaste.</p><p>“This is…<em>genuinely </em>fascinating.” She felt like she could spend a week lost in here, learning about all these various footnotes in history – even if some of them were a tad gruesome. “But, why are we here, Scorpius?”</p><p>He exhaled slowly, his jaw working over itself as his eyes swept the rows of portraits. “Because…I need you to know what we’re up against. These are the people who believed in all of that stuff, <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em> or whatever. These are the people who created the blood-oath, along with another twenty-seven other families just like them. And, like you said, they probably sealed it with some fairly serious, Dark magic, especially if these lot are anything to go by.” He gestured up at a portrait of <em>Brutus Malfoy; 1618 – 1705, </em>who looked as if he’d like nothing better than to reach out of his frame and strangle them both with his bare hands.</p><p>Rose chewed at her lower lip and studied Scorpius for another moment. “You said ‘what <em>we’re </em>up against’?”</p><p>He met her eyes across the hallway and nodded. “Because, Weasley, I think it’s become abundantly clear that I’m going to need your help.”</p><p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ET </p><p>(For those interested: the facts about Scorpius' ancestors are all as dutifully canon as I could make them, with some information taken from Pottermore!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Teamwork & Tantrums</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I have to start today's chapter with unadulterated praise for my wonderful beta Arnel 63, who had to put up with 3 different versions of this chapter, and quite rightly pointed out that the first 2 were both a bit naff. The fact that reading this chapter won't be a total waste of your grey matter, is entirely thanks to her.</p><p>In other news: there is no other news. Lockdown prevails and I've bought way too many house plants this week. How's your January going?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, what do we know about the oath so far?”</p><p>Scorpius scowled at the use of the word ‘we’. He might have finally acquiesced, recognising the value of having Weasley working <em>with</em> rather than against him, but fostering a productive or even remotely convivial working relationship was proving easier said than done.</p><p>They’d already argued over how best to proceed, and then again over which books to start with; which one of them was in charge of making notes and which one of them was in charge of making the coffee. Rose had thrown a strop when she thought he’d stolen her favourite quill, and Scorpius had grown steadily more irritated with, what he felt, was her inordinately loud breathing.</p><p>They’d been about to embark on a squabble over who got to eat the last rich-tea biscuit, when the arrival of a fresh batch of Howlers from her extended family had, strangely, tempered the stormy mood. Rose had forced him to wear the disgustingly dirty Herbology ear-muffs, so he didn’t get to hear exactly which relatives were outraged this time. He could tell, however, from the tense cut of her jaw, and the multiple eye rolls, that they were still rather unhappy with her…<em>them</em>…for their continued lack of explanation, and reluctance to show their faces amongst the wider Weasley clan. Having dealt with nothing but problems since this scheme of theirs had begun, Scorpius could smell a potential complication a mile off. </p><p>When the last Howler had burst into confetti, Scorpius slipped off the ear-muffs and levelled Rose with a serious stare. “They’re not going to go away, you realise?”</p><p>Rose’s head jerked up to scowl at him, before she promptly stomped off towards the kitchen in search of more coffee. “How I choose to deal with my family is none of your business, Malfoy,” she called over her shoulder.</p><p>He sighed through gritted teeth – she really was an absolutely impossible woman – but sloped after her, all the same. “Look, I know we haven’t exactly gotten off to the best start, but I still agree with what you said yesterday. We do need to start playing as a team…and, from one team-mate to another, I can tell you from my own experience that families don’t take kindly to being ignored.”</p><p>“Well, what do you suggest?” she snapped, slamming the kitchen cupboards in her search for an emergency packet of extra biscuits. “It’s not as if we can turn up for Sunday lunch at the Burrow, is it?”</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe.</p><p>Rose spun to stare at him. “Have you gone completely mad?”</p><p>“All I’m saying, is that it would hardly be the worst hurdle to date. We just survived a small army of nosey socialites, not to mention the walking, pickled bat spleen that is Rita Skeeter —”</p><p>“We don’t even know what she’s put in that wretched article of hers, yet —"</p><p>“My point…” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Is that I’m sure we can handle a few of your nearest and dearest for a couple of hours, and then their poor owls might actually be given the day off for once.”</p><p>Rose simply scoffed. “Malfoy, you’d be so out of your depth at that lunch, even I couldn’t save you from drowning.”</p><p>“I rather fancy my chances, actually.” He offered her a wry grin.</p><p>But his attempt at light-heartedness only made Rose’s brow furrow further. “They were never even meant to know about this…” She gestured between them. “When I agreed to our arrangement, it was on the belief that I could keep my family entirely separate from it.”</p><p>Scorpius winced. He couldn’t help but feel… <em>slightly </em>to blame for her obvious dilemma. “Unfortunately, I’d say that ship has well and truly sailed, wouldn’t you? They’re well aware of the engagement by now. And, however this eventually ends, it’ll be a damn sight easier to explain if you haven’t alienated yourself from them for six months.”</p><p>She offered him an unhappy grimace, but this did, at least, seem to strike a chord. “It <em>would</em> be nice to stop receiving daily lectures from my morning post…You really think you’re ready for this, do you?” She eyed him, doubtfully.</p><p>“Only one way to find out.”</p><p>He slid the plate containing the last rich-tea along the counter towards her. A peace offering, of sorts – for which, he was rewarded with the faintest of smiles.</p><p>“I’ll send an owl to my grandma first thing in the morning, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“So, we know…practically nothing,” Rose was staring down at her empty notebook in despair.</p><p>They’d picked up where they left off, which is to say, right at the start. After dispatching with the last of the Howlers (and the last of the rich-tea biscuits), they’d resumed their seats on the sofa with Rose’s quill and notepad between them. And though they’d finally managed to stop their bickering, things still felt a long way from being remotely productive.</p><p>“I wouldn’t say <em>nothing</em>, exactly,” Scorpius frowned and scratched at his neck. “We know the oath is set in motion on an unmarried heir’s twenty-eighth birthday, which, if what my parents tell me is to be believed, is an event that hasn’t occurred for well over a century. We also know that it was first sworn by members of each House of <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em>, several of which have been stricken from the book over the years for a variety of reasons —”</p><p>“Such as marrying Muggle-borns,” Rose sniffed in disdain.</p><p>Scorpius nodded. “Precisely. And you can thank your lucky stars that they were. If this situation were reversed, I dread to think how you’d be handling your impending betrothal.”</p><p>“Right, because you’ve been handling this just brilliantly, so far,” she side-eyed him with the faintest hint of a smirk.</p><p>Scorpius crossed his legs with a huff. “Point taken. Anyway, the so-called <em>Sacred Twenty-Eight </em>are more like the <em>Slightly Less Than Holy Nineteen </em>by now. So, I suppose it’s possible that the blood oath is no longer as potent as it once was.”</p><p>Rose tapped her quill against her notepad thoughtfully. “That seems like rather wishful thinking. The trouble is, we don’t know enough about the mechanics of blood-magic… how it exerts its influence… the rituals needed to create it, even. It’s a rather gaping hole in the Hogwarts curriculum.”</p><p>Scorpius scoffed. “Much like we were never asked to create a Horcrux in Charms class, or slay a herd of Unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures. We weren’t taught about blood magic for good reason – it’s dangerous stuff, and some idiot would have been just stupid enough to try it out for themselves in the middle of the common room.”</p><p>Rose wrinkled her nose. “My money would have been on Belby.”</p><p>“Oh, almost certainly,” Scorpius chuckled.</p><p>They locked eyes for a moment, and Scorpius was struck by the realisation that not only were they being civil to one another for once, but that they might even be getting along. If they could keep this up, he allowed himself to dream, they might actually be in with a shot at getting out of this whole sticky mess <em>unmarried</em> and with their reputations intact.</p><p>“Not to labour the point…” Rose was apparently hell-bent on ruining the moment. “But, how is it that you’ve known about the oath your entire life, and yet you hardly know anything about it, at all?”</p><p>Scorpius blinked, affronted. “In my defence, I was led to believe it was unlikely to ever be a problem.”</p><p>Rose offered him a baffled stare. “How so?”</p><p>“Well,” he shrugged, rather helplessly, “the fact that the oath hasn’t even been triggered in over a century should tell you something. Witches and wizards traditionally marry young, you know that. And… people in my circles —”</p><p>“You can say the word ‘Pureblood’<em>,</em>” Rose rolled her eyes. “I won’t burst into flames.”</p><p><em>Only the metaphorical kind</em>, Scorpius thought, warily.</p><p>“Fine…<em>Purebloods </em>tend to marry even younger. It was heavily implied that I was expected to follow a similar path. At my age, my father had already married my mother, and I was crawling about the Manor and pulling on the house-elves’ ears. The fact that I am not already hitched to some pretty and obliging witch and churning out heirs is a source of great puzzlement and distress to all of my extended family.”</p><p>Rose appeared to find this concept amusing. “Evidently, they failed to account for some of your more off-putting attributes.”</p><p>It really was quite remarkable, he thought, how Weasley could turn a promising co-operative discussion into a scathing personal attack.</p><p>“I’ll have you know,” he clipped, fixing her with another scowl, “that I could have been married about six times over by now, should I have chosen to be. It’s not like I haven’t had opportunity.”</p><p>“Yes, I forgot,” Rose drawled. She’d started doodling on her otherwise blank page. “You have women falling at your feet on a daily basis. You’re just picky.”</p><p>“That’s not what I –…” he bit his tongue and sighed through gritted teeth. “My point, Weasley, is that I have refused to marry just because it was expected of me, because of the oath. Foolishly, I had hoped to have some semblance of control over my own destiny. And that should I ever marry, it would be for the right reasons, and not because of some outdated belief that the House of Malfoy must take precedent over individual happiness or free will.” </p><p>Rose abruptly stopped her scribbling and looked across at him. He was surprised to find she looked slightly abashed.</p><p>“And, maybe you’re right,” he continued, tersely, “and I have been burying my head in the sand in regards to the oath. But, you of all people can understand, surely, that I have had other priorities in my life to date. Like trying to carve a name for myself, and a career, unrelated to my family history. So, you’ll forgive me for cutting it a little fine with my homework.”</p><p>He glared off into the far corner of the room, feeling the beginnings of a good old-fashioned sulk coming on.</p><p>There was a long and pregnant pause before he heard Rose setting down her notebook and quill on the sofa between them. “I’m… sorry,” she sighed.</p><p>Scorpius was quite sure he must have misheard. He stared at Rose in unadulterated surprise.</p><p>She offered him a small, almost rueful smile. “Old habits die hard, it seems. I know we need to play nice, and yet I can’t seem to bite my tongue.”</p><p>Scorpius studied her for a moment, as if trying to ascertain if her apology was some sort of trap. “Well,” he muttered, “Rome wasn’t built in a day, I suppose.”</p><p>“And leopards have a notoriously hard time changing their spots,” she sighed, shooting him another small smile. “It seems we have a mutual enjoyment of out-dated idioms, at least. There’s something to build on.”</p><p>Scorpius huffed out a laugh, continuing to appraise her over the rim of his coffee mug. He noticed, not for the first time, that she had an amazingly expressive face. He could pick out her exasperation, her disappointment and her resolve, all from the quirk of her brow and the curve of her mouth. Normally, whenever she looked at him, her expression screamed <em>‘I would murder you in an instant were it not for the ever-present threat of Dementors’</em>, so this was actually something of an improvement.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to imply that this was somehow your fault,” Rose chewed on her lower lip and continued, “that wasn’t fair of me. You’ve been put into an impossible situation and… and I’d probably have acted just the same, if it were me. I suppose I’m just worried…and a little overwhelmed.”</p><p>Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. “<em>You’re</em> feeling overwhelmed? Might I remind you that I recently found myself so overcome, I ended up dragging you into a toilet and propositioning you with marriage?”</p><p>“Ah, yes…” The memory of this seemed to brighten Rose, somewhat. “Whatever was I thinking, telling Skeeter you knew how to keep a cool head in a crisis?”</p><p>Scorpius glowered at her, but it lacked its usual malice. He took another swig of his coffee and tried not to think about anything else they might have told Skeeter during their horrendously uncomfortable interview, such as how much she admired his bone structure, or that he found her freckles secretly pleasing.</p><p>He glanced sideways at her again – her copper mane was pulled to one side in a loose, lopsided plait and she wasn’t wearing any make up, meaning he had an unhindered view of those very same freckles as they disappeared one by one under a burgeoning blush. He suspected her mind may have wandered down the same rabbit hole as his, and he shifted awkwardly on the sofa.</p><p>Beside him, Rose shook her head back into focus. “Do you have a copy of <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight </em>in that box of yours?”</p><p>She nodded towards the trunk full of books that Scorpius had brought with him when he’d first moved himself into her flat. It had migrated back into the living room over the last few days, mostly because he kept tripping over it when he clambered out of bed in the morning, and was now leering at them from the corner of the room – a physical reminder of the almost insurmountable task in front of them.</p><p>“I think so,” he frowned. “I grabbed whatever I thought might be relevant the last time I visited the Manor library.”</p><p>Rose sat up with intent. “Right, then I’ll start with that.”</p><p>Scorpius scoffed. “What are you expecting to find? A reversal spell hidden in the margins?”</p><p>“Not quite.” She was already rolling up her sleeves. “But if we want to know what we’re up against, where better to start than with the people who created it.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p>They fell into a semi comfortable rhythm for the rest of that afternoon: Rose poring over what she suspected might be a first edition of <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em> by Cantankerous Nott, and Scorpius flipping through whichever book she threw at him from the other end of the couch. Whenever each of them found something they thought might be noteworthy, they’d read it aloud, and scribble it down in Rose’s notebook – a total mish-mash of possible irrelevancies, but something to go on, at least.</p><p>When Scorpius’ stomach started to rumble, Rose sloped off to the kitchen and emerged with crumpets. And, when Rose’s head started to nod over the top of her ancient tome, Scorpius re-filled the cafetiere and nudged her awake with fresh coffee and only the lightest of teasing.</p><p>Although she was familiar with its contents, Rose had never actually bothered to read <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight </em>before. It wasn’t the sort of thing that her mum had kept a copy of in their modest study at home, and there had always been so many other, more interesting parts of history to concern oneself with, besides. It was actually a lot thicker than she’d imagined with a number of pages devoted to each House, detailing their family crests and mottos, a brief history of their lineage – which, Rose noticed, made exorbitant use of words like ‘great’ and ‘noble’ – before a full listing of all members, past and present, of that particularly dynasty.</p><p>Although the book had originally been published in 1930, certain enchantments apparently kept these listings up to date, with names appearing magically in every copy as each new heir was born. Rose paused momentarily over Scorpius’ name, situated on the final page of the House of Malfoy. If it hadn’t dawned on her before, seeing all of his various ancestors’ names in print above him, gave her some understanding of the pressure he might be feeling – and possibly had felt for some time – in the face of all their history and traditions.</p><p>As Scorpius had suggested, hers was not the only family to have been stricken from the book for bad behaviour. Entries for the Fawleys, the Prewetts, the Shafiqs and the Weasleys had all but faded from the book, just about legible but evidently no longer maintained by the book’s own magical properties. She didn’t dwell long on her own family’s entry – just long enough to note that she didn’t make an appearance, herself. The list of names ended with her cousin, Dominique, who was the last Weasley born before Rose’s parents had married.</p><p>Another handful of Houses had seemingly met a grizzlier end. The Crouch family, the Gaunts, the Lestranges, the Ollivanders and the Rowle family, all had entries which ended abruptly with a menacing skull and crossbones. Rose assumed that this meant these old Wizarding dynasties had officially died out, with no living descendants carrying enough of that family’s bloodline to still be recognised by the book and its magic. Rose could remember her parents and uncle attending the wandmaker, Garrick Ollivander’s funeral when she was just a child. His was the last name inscribed beneath the Ollivander crest and he had, apparently, died childless.  </p><p>Other Houses seemed to disappear into each other, with a Latin inscription – <em>Alius paginum videre </em>– instructing the reader to follow the bloodline onto another page. From what Rose could deduce, this occurred when a family had no living male heirs, but their daughters had married into other lineages.</p><p>House of Abbott became House of Longbottom. House of Parkinson into Nott. Black and Greengrass had both been swallowed by Malfoy.</p><p>Prewett had, once upon a time, directed the reader to Weasley, but was also now faded out, tainted by association.</p><p>It was fascinating stuff, really. Rose could appreciate the years of history at her fingertips, the glimpse into old Pureblood culture and the web of connections and familial alliances that had been made and solidified over the centuries. But, the longer she read, the more ill at ease she felt. A creeping sense of discomfort settling between her shoulder blades, almost as if the book knew who she was and wanted her to know that she didn’t belong, that this wasn’t any of her business.</p><p>Eventually, she snapped the book shut with a sigh of relief.</p><p>Rubbing a hand over tired eyes, Rose cricked her neck a little to the left and glanced up from her nest of cushions to where Scorpius sat, legs out-stretched, on the sofa. He had, at some point, apparently grown bored with whichever book she’d assigned him and his attention had drifted – yet again – to her notes on the Glenfinnan Viaduct. They’d been left on the coffee table after their spat the day before, and it seemed Scorpius really didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. </p><p>“Tell me about the Gemino Curse,” Rose said, loudly, startling Scorpius who made a half-hearted attempt to hide what he’d been reading before realising he’d already been caught red-handed.</p><p>“Err, well,” he cleared his throat and grinned at her a little sheepishly. “It’s also known as the Doubling Charm, supposedly created by a set of twins in the 1800s. It creates an exact replica of the target object and can be combined with other spells when needed, to imbue the copies with additional magical properties. It also happened to be on our Charms O.W.L. exam which means you already know all of this…” He looked at her pointedly.</p><p>“You wrote it on my notes,” Rose clambered up onto the sofa beside him, knocking his legs aside. “There, see…<em>’Use a variant of the Gemino Curse</em>’. What makes you think that would work?”</p><p>Scorpius, still frowning from being so unceremoniously displaced, gave her a curious look. “Well, you mention in your mad ramblings —” Rose knocked him lightly between the ribs. “You mention your concerns about not having enough of the original stone left to fully restore the viaduct. The Gemino Curse could provide you with exact replicas of the originals, so why not use that?”</p><p>“Because,” Rose shifted in her seat till she was facing him, “as was also on our O.W.L. exam, the replicas created by the Curse deteriorate at a faster rate than the originals so, over time, half of the stonework would erode and crumble.”</p><p>“Hence why I suggested using a variant spell,” Scorpius arched an eyebrow. “If you combine the Gemino Curse with some kind of protective enchantment, perhaps a modified Protego Totalum, you could have exact replicas of the original stonework which <em>don’t </em>decay at a faster rate.”</p><p>Rose blinked at him, as she processed his idea. “That… could actually work.”</p><p>“Yes…” he grinned at her, smugly, “it actually could.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes at him, thoughtfully. “You find this interesting, don’t you?”</p><p>Scorpius rolled his eyes, then, and clambered out of his seat. Rose noticed that he hadn’t moved in so long, he’d left an imprint on the sofa cushions. He set about collecting up their discarded coffee mugs and plates.</p><p>“Don’t be absurd, Weasley,” he drawled. Rose watched him march off into the kitchen, heard the clatter of dishware in the sink and the casting of a lazy cleaning charm. Scorpius’ head appeared in the little kitchen hatch a moment later. “I still think your ridiculous bridge project is a total waste of time and resources. It just beats reading about Dark-magic rituals in which my ancestors drank each other’s blood or ran around stark naked, having weird magical orgies beneath a harvest moon or whatever.”</p><p>But Rose wasn’t buying it. She pulled herself off the sofa and walked over to the hatch, bending down and propping herself up on her elbows so that they were facing each other, eye to eye, through the hole in the wall.</p><p>“Maybe you’re not sold on the Viaduct,” she considered, “but you’re definitely intrigued by the process. The spell-work, I mean. Restoring ancient artefacts is tricky, never mind things that have been exposed to the elements for over a century. And you’re obviously talented at Charms….”</p><p>“Weasley, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…”</p><p>She swung herself round into the kitchen, enthusiastically. “You could help me!”</p><p>Scorpius turned to face her with a beleaguered expression. “Absolutely, unequivocally and categorically <em>no</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Malfoy —”</p><p>“Read my lips: I’m not interested.”</p><p>“Oh, but I think you <em>are</em>,” Rose called in a sing-song voice. “And besides, it’s Quid Pro Quo. I’m helping you escape the blood oath, a fate apparently worse than death by your own estimation. The least you can do is assist me with <em>my</em> project. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you <em>owe </em>me.”</p><p>He folded his arms across his chest. “You’ll want to consider the thousands of galleons currently sitting in a Ministry account with your name on, before claiming that I owe you anything.”</p><p>His words were snide, but Rose caught the quirk of his lips and the gleam in his eye and knew she had him.</p><p>“We’ll see.” She grinned, sloping back into the living room and picking up the next book from the top of Scorpius’ trunk. “It just seems like such a waste, someone as talented at Charm work as you evidently are, not giving something back to society.” She eyed him, coyly, through the hatch again.</p><p>“And flattery will get you absolutely nowhere.” He was still sporting that smirk that quite clearly suggested otherwise.</p><p>Neither of them remarked on how very odd it was to hear Rose describe him in remotely positive terms, although the thought did occur to her. She still thought he was a cretin, of course. Just an intelligent, magically-competent cretin. The sort of cretin that could prove useful to have on one’s team when trying to restore a colossal architectural structure.</p><p>That, and he really did have killer cheek-bones, she had to admit.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Later that evening, as she sat up in bed finishing off the remnants of a Chocolate Frog she’d purposely hidden from Malfoy, Rose studied the contents of her notebook. They’d both been busy, scribbling down anything that they’d come across in their reading that seemed like it might be helpful, and they now had a good few pages of scrawl to show for it.</p><p>She read back over her notations on <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em>. Scorpius had been almost right – discounting the dead dynasties and the faded-out families, it left eighteen active Houses. She’d already made a list of these, and also jotted down an idea: ‘<em>will the reversal spell also require the blood of each House?’ </em></p><p>They had an awful lot more to learn about blood-magic, she realised, before they’d find the answer to that.</p><p>She flipped the page to where Scorpius had also been busy jotting down his various discoveries. His handwriting was impeccably neat. In the interest of their newfound co-operation, she tried not to let this observation irrationally irritate her.</p><p>
  <em>‘Magical marriage contracts typically sealed with a Binding Spell ….  What if the oath is a variant of an Unbreakable Vow? …. Must remember to tell Weasley she talks in her sleep.’</em>
</p><p>Rose scoffed, out loud – “I absolutely do <em>not!</em>” – making a mental note to avoid napping in front of him ever again.</p><p>Setting down her notebook for a moment, she reached over into her bedside drawer and retrieved a thin, white envelope. This letter had arrived along with that morning’s batch of Howlers but, recognising the handwriting, she’d carefully hidden it from Malfoy’s prying eyes down the side of the sofa, until she could retrieve it later.</p><p>She didn’t think Niall Finnigan had ever sent her a letter before, not even when they’d been together. So, Rose couldn’t possibly imagine what he was playing at, writing to her now.</p><p>More than a little apprehensive but fuelled by her curiosity, she opened the envelope and unfolded the single piece of parchment within.</p><p>
  <em>‘Rosie,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry about the other day. You know me, I’ve never been very good with surprises, and I guess I was just a little… surprised. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I was hoping we could talk, whenever you have a moment? You know where to find me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours, Niall.’</em>
</p><p>Rose stared at the familiar scrawl for a moment more, feeling an unsettling mix of emotions swirl about her stomach, as if she’d eaten something that disagreed with her. She quickly slipped the parchment back into its envelope and shoved it back into her drawer. Perhaps if she left it in there long enough, and didn’t look at it, the letter (and its author) might just disappear entirely from existence and stop messing with her poor, battered psyche.</p><p>She could only hope.</p><p>With a confused and weary sigh, she wriggled down under the duvet and leant over to extinguish her wand-light with a muttered, <em>“Nox.”</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p>“I’m just saying,” Rose griped, as the line they were currently waiting in shuffled forward between shelves full of discarded umbrellas and misplaced luggage, “one sick day in a blue moon isn’t going to hurt.”</p><p>Now that they’d started to properly sink their teeth into the blood oath research, Rose was reluctant to stop for something so trivial as her Ministry day job. But, as Scorpius reminded her over breakfast on Monday morning, not showing up for work was generally frowned upon by the higher-ups, and they needed the rest of the world to believe they were a normal, newly engaged couple going about their business as usual.</p><p>They’d left the flat <em>unusually</em> early, however, even before that morning’s post could arrive, owing to Scorpius’ insistence that morning rush hour disagreed with him generally, and his refusal to use her – as he put it – ‘aggressively insolent’ Floo connection. Rose had felt such an accusation was quite unnecessary so early in the morning, but didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Which is why they found themselves, at a little after seven in the morning, in the queue for the nearest public Floo point – a fireplace, hidden in the lost property room of the Chalk Farm Tube Station.</p><p>“And both of us ‘off sick’ together wouldn’t arouse suspicion in the slightest, would it?” Scorpius muttered, dryly, puzzling over a pair of roller-skates that had, according to the tag, been left on the Northern Line at some point last March. “Best case scenario is that our colleagues think we’re spending the day shagging each other’s brains out, which I doubt is a rumour either of us would enjoy dispelling.”</p><p>Rose grimaced, demonstrating her agreement by dropping the subject entirely.</p><p>When they finally made it to the front of the queue, they stepped into the fireplace together, Scorpius reaching for Rose’s hand almost automatically. She took it, without a word of complaint, and was rather glad she did when they arrived into the Ministry Atrium in a whirl of green flames, only to find their own faces staring back at them.</p><p>Rose stumbled over the grate, feeling Scorpius steady her with a tug on her hand, as they drew up short in front of a newspaper stand selling copies of that morning’s <em>Daily Prophet</em>.</p><p>“<em>Shiteing</em> <em>Salazar</em>…” Scorpius muttered under his breath.</p><p>It wasn’t that either of them had forgotten about their impending feature in the tabloid rag, more like they’d intentionally tried to erase the ordeal of their awkward afternoon spent at the whim of the malevolent Rita Skeeter entirely from their collective memory.</p><p>They’d made the front page, it seemed, which meant it was either a very slow news day, or Skeeter had spun their interview into some sensationalist story, as she was rather fond of doing. Without another word, Scorpius fished in his robe pocket for the necessary sickles and purchased a copy. The vendor gave them both a warm smile, which neither of them returned, and Rose spent a frantic thirty seconds trying to decipher the meaning of.</p><p>As it was still too early for the mad hordes of the Ministry rush hour, they were spared the additional horror of a watching crowd as Scorpius pulled Rose quickly into the nearest vacant lift, jabbing at the buttons – floors one and five respectively – before unfolding the paper to take in the front page in all its glory.</p><p>They both stared in surprise. Remarkably, the photographer had somehow managed to capture the only moment during their interview when Rose <em>hadn’t </em>looked like she’d quite happily murder every single other person in the room. They were both smiling down the lens, Scorpius with one arm around her waist, their hands clasped together on Rose’s knee; both looking remarkably comfortable for two people who’d actually been mere seconds away from ripping each other’s throats out.  </p><p>They glanced at the headline: <strong>A Skeeter Exclusive: When Two Wrongs Finally Make a Right</strong></p><p>“What does that even mean?” Rose hissed, her eyebrows scrambling for her hairline.</p><p>Scorpius – who was apparently a champion speed-reader – was already turning the page to where the article continued on page three. He read aloud from Skeeter’s final paragraph, “<em>‘— and though our two love-struck protagonists have clearly been warped by the infamy of their respective families, they find in each other a safe harbour at last. The young Scorpius’ soothing glance can cool even the hottest flames of Miss Weasley’s jealous rage —’</em>”</p><p>“She did <em>not </em>write that?!” Rose scrambled to read over his shoulder.</p><p>“<em>‘— whilst her tender caress can stoke a heady fire behind the otherwise lifeless eyes of the Malfoy heir.’</em>” Scorpius gawked down at the paper.<em> “</em>Lifeless?! She must be mad! I’ve had multiple women tell me my eyes are the colour of molten mercury, amongst other things. I have a notoriously disarming gaze!”</p><p>Rose tilted her head appraisingly, “I can sort of see where she’s coming from, actually. You do have a serious case of resting death-glare.”</p><p>Scorpius turned his incensed stare on Rose, who ignored him by snatching the paper out of his hands to continue reading.</p><p>“<em>‘In summary, despite their individual oddities, this is a romantic union in which the sum is far greater than the value of its separate parts. Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are so perfect for one another, this reporter finds it hard to believe that their love hasn’t been prophesised by the Seers of old. From all of us at </em>The Daily Prophet<em>, we extend our blessings and congratulations and add their impending nuptials to next season’s social calendar with great anticipation.’</em>”</p><p>She turned to Scorpius, who was still busy sulking over the ‘lifeless eyes’ comment, and blinked in awe. “I can’t believe it…” she muttered, breathlessly. “We actually got away with it.”</p><p>“What do you mean, I have a serious case of resting —”</p><p>But Scorpius didn’t manage to finish his sentence, owing to the fact that Rose had just done something so out of character, it was reasonable to assume she was under the influence of the Imperius Curse.</p><p>She hugged him.</p><p>Well, more accurately, she threw her arms around him in mad abandon.  </p><p>The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Scorpius stumbled back against the side of the lift in surprise and Rose stumbled with him, her arms flung around his neck. He steadied himself with a hand on her waist and tried not to choke on a mouthful of copper curls, reluctantly acknowledging that she smelt rather nice and felt pleasingly warm against him. She lifted her head as if to say something, and Scorpius became acutely aware of how very close their noses were to touching. He could see every golden fleck in those otherwise lazuli blue eyes.   </p><p>The lift doors opened prematurely on Level Six – Department of Magical Transportation.</p><p>“Morning, lovebirds.”</p><p>Rose and Scorpius scrambled apart – faces flushed and robes askew – at the jovial tones of Jasper Nott, who stepped into the lift with a grin and a wink, his morning paper tucked under his arm.</p><p>“Don’t mind me,” he muttered, turning his attention to the sports pages. “Pretend I’m not even here and feel free to continue doing… whatever it was you were doing.”</p><p>It took a moment for Scorpius to regain his composure. He pushed himself off the lift wall, attempting to straighten his dishevelled robes, and chanced a glance over to where Rose had flung herself into the opposite corner. The woman looked as if she’d just eaten an entire bag of Boiling Bon-Bons, with cheeks as red as her hair and a look of general astonishment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done.</p><p>Well, that made two of them.</p><p>“Morning, Nott,” Scorpius nodded, the tips of his ears prickling with an uncomfortable heat. “What are you doing skulking around the Transport offices this early in the morning? You can’t be taking your Apparition test again, surely? I thought, after last time, they’d politely requested you didn’t reapply?”</p><p>His friend smiled back at him, grimly. “Very amusing. Don’t believe a word he says, Weasley. I’ve had my Apparition licence for years, and it only took me three goes —”</p><p>“Four,” Scorpius corrected.</p><p>Jasper frowned at him, crossly. “Well, I still maintain the second one didn’t count. The instructor had a terrible stutter and ‘Please now Side-Along Apparate me to the station at Seven Sisters’ was never going to end well.” </p><p>Whilst Jasper sulked, Scorpius glanced back at Rose. She was now studying her shoes with intent, though thankfully less red-faced so that he didn’t need to worry that her cheeks might be about to melt off entirely.</p><p>The lift doors opened again – Level Five this time – and Rose couldn’t escape fast enough.</p><p>“I’ll, err, meet you in the Atrium a little after five?” Scorpius called after her. Although, if she heard him, she didn’t deign to respond. He frowned as the golden grills slid shut in front of him and blocked her from view.</p><p>“I think you’ve snogged the poor girl speechless, mate,” Jasper sniggered from behind his newspaper.</p><p>Unfortunately, all Scorpius had left in his arsenal was a withering stare.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ET - so, there you have it, for those of you wondering when we might get to see more of our favourite Weasleys... there's a rather ill-fated Sunday lunch on the horizon. </p><p>As always, don't forget to say hello and STAY SAFE FOLKS!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Weasleys & Woes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: A fairly speedy chapter turnaround, if I do say so myself. Maybe I was a tad excited about our trip to the Burrow, fiiiinally. Thanks to Arnel 63 for beta-ing this chapter into shape for us all.</p>
<p>A quick word on future chapters - as those of you who have read some of my previous stories (and my other rambling, tedious A/Ns) will know, I work in the medical field and, as of today, have been redeployed to a busier department with a rota that appears to have been designed by a toddler who has yet to grasp the concept of the 24 hour clock. I'm not sure yet how this will effect writing/posting schedule - not that I have much of one of those anyway, as poor Arnel 63 can attest - but I humbly ask for your support and patience (which has been amazing, as always) as we put our heads down and plough on!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things took a more convivial turn in the Malfoy-Weasley love nest for the remainder of that week. It seemed to have been unanimously and telepathically decided that their little physical altercation in the lift wasn’t to be remarked upon again, and they both managed to go about their lives with some semblance of normality for a few days.</p>
<p>Of course, this was an entirely new form of normal. One in which they took the Floo in and out of work together every day, held hands in public, and tried not to bite each other’s heads off when in company.</p>
<p>Perhaps the greatest achievement of the week, however, was that their respective heads also remained <em>mostly</em> intact when in the privacy of their shared abode. They’d even developed something of a routine – they came home, put on a pot of tea or opened a bottle of wine depending on the mood, each plucking a book from Scorpius’ trunk-based library, and sitting down to read and research until one of them grew hungry enough to throw together some dinner. By Tuesday, this routine had expanded to include a half-hour debriefing of their individual work days. And by Wednesday, Scorpius had grown so sick of Rose’s attempts at cooking, he’d permanently relieved her of this duty (something <em>she</em> wasn’t complaining about it the slightest).</p>
<p>All in all, they had a number of reasons to feel rather pleased with themselves, come the weekend. Their shared notebook of possible clues to the origins and specifics of the blood oath was filling up nicely, and they’d only had <em>two</em> of their usual, door-slamming shouting matches all week. The first, Scorpius could concede, was probably his fault for joking that Rose ought to hand in her resignation soon, as Malfoy wives were traditionally expected to stay home and keep house. The second one he was still at a loss over, however, although he blamed himself for trying to engage the woman in civil conversation before she’d even had her first cup of coffee.</p>
<p>They were, Scorpius realised, as they ate their breakfast in semi comfortable silence come Sunday morning, growing used to one another. They’d even shared out the morning paper – Rose taking her favourite puzzle pages, whilst he’d nabbed the sports section – and were no longer fighting over the breakfast cereal, after he’d nipped out and bought them some more; Pixie Puffs for her and Cheeri Owls for him.</p>
<p>In fact, he’d become so accustomed to her general presence, that he could tell almost as soon as she sat down just how anxious she was about their upcoming visit to the Burrow. His gaze shifted from her foot, tapping rhythmically on the linoleum, to the tight purse of her lips. Her brow had been pinched into a permanent display of worry since the previous evening.</p>
<p>Seeing her so outwardly nervous was starting to make him feel the same, and so he sought to put an end to it by nudging her jiggling foot with his, under the table. All this did, however, was make her jump in her seat – ‘tightly wound’ was apparently an understatement today – and spill orange juice all over her newspaper.    </p>
<p>She frowned – first at him, then at her sodden paper, then back into the middle distance. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I’m a little…distracted.”</p>
<p>“Really? I would never have noticed,” he arched an eyebrow. “You need to stop worrying. The more you over think this, the worse it will be. It’s just a spot of Sunday lunch —”</p>
<p>“If you truly think that, then you’re kidding yourself, Malfoy,” she snorted, Vanishing the spilt juice with a terse flick of her wand. “These people —”</p>
<p>“Your family,” he reminded her.</p>
<p>She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yes, my family…well, they can be very difficult when they want to be. And, given the fact that we’ve ignored them for the last few weeks, not to mention that we’ve supposedly started dating, fallen in love <em>and</em> gotten engaged without any of them ever hearing about it, makes me think they’re unlikely to be inclined to go particularly easy on us today.”</p>
<p>“I would’ve thought they’d be happy for you?”</p>
<p>“It isn’t that simple, and you know it,” she eyed him, tiredly.</p>
<p>Scorpius thought of his own mother, who – less than a minute after the initial shock of hearing that her only child had proposed to a woman she’d never even been introduced to – had promptly burst into exclamations of delight and started discussing a guest list. From what he knew of the Weasleys (which wasn’t a great deal, admittedly), he’d never have imagined it would be <em>his </em>family accused of offering the friendlier reception.</p>
<p>He watched as Rose’s teeth raked anxiously over her bottom lip, and set down his paper with a sigh. “Why don’t you give me some tips, then? A few suggestions of what might help us win them over?”</p>
<p>“You’re underestimating them,” she shook her head, wildly. “There is no ‘winning them over’. We’ll be entering a battle-field, one that nobody gets to leave until somebody’s surrendered.”</p>
<p>Scorpius gave her a doubtful look.</p>
<p>“Think of my family as an army, right?” Rose leant forward, gathering utensils and the salt and pepper shakers into the middle of the table. “There’s enough of them, at least, and they’re practically impenetrable if they close ranks against you.” She pushed the spoons to one side and pointed at them. “We might be able to charm a few of the cadets – Lily’s probably an easy target, maybe even Lucy and Fred – but the higher up the ranks you go, the more resistance you’ll face. It’ll take more than a few adoring looks and flowery words to win over the Lieutenants, like Albus and my brother.” They were her knife and fork, respectively. “And, a Major such as my Aunt Ginny –” She tapped the top of the pepper mill. “– can have you court martialled in a second if you put your foot in it. Not to mention that none of this will even matter if we fail to make peace with the Colonel!” She slid the salt shaker forward as if she were about to checkmate his breakfast and looked up, expectantly.</p>
<p>Scorpius blinked in startled bewilderment. “The Colonel being whom, exactly? Your Uncle Harry?”</p>
<p>“No, my grandma, obviously!” Rose waved her hands about in distress, narrowly avoiding knocking the salt shaker over and bringing bad luck upon the whole operation.</p>
<p>“I see,” Scorpius’ amusement was evident in the shake of his shoulders. Rose stared at him, evidently unable to see the funny side of their predicament. “Look,” he said, “that rather drawn out analogy notwithstanding, do you think, perhaps, that you might be being a little over-dramatic?”</p>
<p>She shook her head, defiantly. “Not in the least, no!”</p>
<p>Scorpius rolled his eyes. “This is your <em>family</em>, Rose. People who, traditionally, love you and want the best for you. Which means, they’ll be looking to find the best in this…” he gestured between them, “in us…in <em>me</em>. They’ll want you to be happy, so they’ll unconsciously look for the evidence that you are. It’s a powerful bias, and all we have to do is play into that.”</p>
<p>Rose screwed up her face in frustration. “That is such a…a <em>Slytherin </em>approach!”</p>
<p>He chuckled. “And only a Gryffindor would start planning for warfare without first considering any other options. <em>Diplomacy </em>can usually get the job done in half the time and with significantly fewer casualties. Although, given our own personal history, I’m aware it’s not your strong suit.”</p>
<p>Her eyes flashed but she didn’t bite. She was learning his tells, he realised. He grinned at her, only mildly disappointed.</p>
<p>“We’re going to be fine, Weasley.” He gave her foot another nudge under the table. “Although…if you don’t hurry up and brush that insane hair of yours into submission, we might be late. And that doesn’t seem like the best way to get the Colonel on our side, now, does it?”</p>
<p>Rose glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall, gave a distressed yelp, and immediately scurried off towards her bedroom. Scorpius merely shook his head in amusement and turned back to his newspaper. Perhaps meeting some of her wider family might enlighten him as to why Weasley was such a highly-strung nutter, he mused. Although, he strongly suspected that her particular brand of insanity was extra special and entirely all of her own making.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>The Portkey deposited them at the summit of Stoatshead Hill, exactly as it was supposed to do, which Rose found incredibly unfortunate. She’d never been the victim of a Portkey accident – she’d heard they could be quite nasty – and yet, on this occasion, leaving half of herself behind at the pick-up point had seemed rather the more appealing of the two outcomes.</p>
<p>The walk through Ottery St Catchpole took them at least another twenty minutes, and would have likely taken longer if Scorpius hadn’t chastised her for dragging her feet and threatened to throw her over his shoulder and carry her if she didn’t get a move on. Of course, none of this was even necessary – not the Portkey, or the walk – as the two of them could have simply Apparated right onto the front doorstep if they’d wanted. The Anti-Apparition wards hadn’t been active for years, but Rose hadn’t felt the need to correct Scorpius on that issue when he’d put himself in charge of the travel arrangements. </p>
<p>“Will your mother be there?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh…” Rose looked across, startled by Scorpius’ intrusion into her spiralling panic. They’d left the village outskirts behind, and Rose knew that the Burrow would shimmer into view just on the other side of the approaching hill. “No, she –… She’s at Hogwarts until Christmas.”</p>
<p>She winced, trying to remember if she’d ever mentioned her parents’ divorce in front of him. She thought that she had, but maybe only in vague, non-specific terms, which probably meant he hadn’t really understood. Divorce was still something of a rarity in the Wizarding world. It happened, occasionally – usually if one or both parties was Muggle-born (her parents’ situation being one such example), whose upbringing didn’t view it as quite such a sacrilege.</p>
<p>When it came to marriage, Wizarding culture was rather old-fashioned. Betrothals and blood-oaths were only one side of the coin; a marriage vow still meant a life-long commitment to most witches and wizards, especially the older generations. Rose knew that was why her grandma – infinitely loving and kind, though she was – had effectively ostracised her mum from all recent family gatherings. Grandma Molly simply didn’t know how to reconcile with the fact that her son’s relationship with his childhood sweetheart, once bursting with love and devotion, had ended prematurely, with a few, sad signatures in a back office of the Ministry. For the time being, at least, it was simpler for her to pretend that Hermione Granger – Brightest Witch of her Age and, now, ex-daughter-in-law – just didn’t exist, than to accept that their marriage hadn’t turned out to be all that was promised.</p>
<p>Rose felt the knot in her stomach twist, wondering how an entirely <em>faked </em>engagement might be received by the likes of her grandparents. It wasn’t as though she and Scorpius had made any vows to one another, but this arrangement of theirs was still a sham, a mockery of something their culture held as sacrosanct. She wondered who might receive the colder reception – her, or her mother – if all of this went truly belly-up.</p>
<p>“There’s something you probably ought to know…” Rose heard herself speak, eyes focused on the rapidly approaching garden gate that would lead them into the Burrow’s small orchard. “My parents are…well, they’re no longer together.”</p>
<p>She felt Scorpius turn his gaze on her but kept her own glued ahead. This still wasn’t comfortable territory for her, but she supposed it was something you’d probably have shared with your fiancé, before they turned up to meet the relatives. It would seem odd if he didn’t know.</p>
<p>“Err, of course.” She heard the confusion in his voice. “Hogwarts is a long way away, and if they’re still not allowing conjugal visits, then I imagine term time must be tough for them —”</p>
<p>“No, that’s not —” Rose pressed her mouth into a thin line and sighed, coming to a halt with one hand on the gate post. She glanced up at him, struck by the realisation that she was now obliged to have these sorts of intimate, personal conversations with Scorpius git-face Malfoy, of all people. How very strange.</p>
<p>“They’re divorced,” she stated, plainly. “As in, no longer legally married. It’s…err, not a secret, but it’s not exactly common knowledge, either. They managed to keep it out of the newspapers… I’m not really sure how. I think Skeeter might be scared of my mum, for some reason, Merlin knows why.” She offered him a small shrug whilst she tried to work out what to do with her hands.</p>
<p>“Oh…” was all he eventually responded with. She flicked her eyes back to him, taking in the hands shoved into his pockets and the crease of his brow – his thinking pose, she’d come to recognise. “That… makes sense, actually.”</p>
<p>Rose blinked. “I’m sorry?”</p>
<p>“Well,” he cocked his head to one side, thoughtfully, “most women who’d just been dragged into a bathroom and propositioned with a fake marriage would have likely slapped me for insulting their honour, or some such drivel. You, on the other hand, barely batted an eyelid and started negotiating with me. This… <em>situation </em>with your parents… well, that explains it.”</p>
<p>“What?” Rose scoffed at him. “<em>How?</em>”</p>
<p>He smiled, faintly, and leant against the gate beside her. “Because it means you’re like me. You understand that marriage isn’t just about responsibility and what makes a good match on paper. If it isn’t what you want, you shouldn’t be forced into it, or forced to continue on with it, if it no longer makes you happy.” He let out a huff of laughter at her indignant expression. “Believe it or not, that was actually a compliment, Weasley. Take it.”</p>
<p>She was about to string some sort of sentence together that alluded to her displeasure at being likened to him in any way, but a flash of red in the Burrow’s third floor window caught her eye.</p>
<p>“Bugger,” she hissed. “I think we’ve been spotted.”</p>
<p>Sure enough, the excited cry of <em>“They’re here! They’re here!” </em>followed by a number of loud crashes and bangs, could be heard all the way down at the bottom of the orchard. Definitely Lily, Rose recognised, with a grimace.</p>
<p>She made to open the gate but drew her hands back to her sides, uncertainly. “Maybe we should have some sort of signal,” she fretted, “you know, in case we need to make a hasty retreat. Maybe a hand gesture, or some sort of noise —”</p>
<p>Scorpius stopped her ramblings by placing a firm hand on her shoulder. She looked up into a determined stare, and an oddly reassuring smile.</p>
<p>“This is going to be fine, Weasley.” She felt his thumb brush across her collarbone, just as it peeked out from under her dress collar. “We’re a team, remember? We’ll get through it together.”</p>
<p>And with that, she let him open the garden gate and lead her up towards the house, her hand firmly clasped in his.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>Scorpius was partly right, at least. <em>He </em>needn’t have worried in the slightest. <em>She </em>on the other hand…</p>
<p>From the moment they were welcomed into the Burrow’s cramped kitchen, it was clear that no one held even a whiff of animosity towards Scorpius for their secret courtship and weeks of aloofness. They were all apparently delighted to finally meet him, which Rose could tell from the hastily assembled queue of cousins and uncles and aunts, all standing in line to shake his hand or jovially clap him on the shoulder as they introduced themselves. Lily even snuck in a kiss on both cheeks, claiming it was <em>“a perfectly normal European greeting</em>” when Rose arched an eyebrow at her.</p>
<p>Rose’s reception, on the other hand, was a rather frostier affair. Whilst her Grandma Molly had swallowed Scorpius into a trademark hug, announcing how thrilled she was to finally have him visit, all Rose received was a “hello, Rosie, dear,” and a wave in her general direction. Which was about as close as you could get to a passive aggressive smack around the ear-hole.</p>
<p>Dominique was even worse. She was simultaneously batting her lovely, long eyelashes at Scorpius, whilst throwing Rose the filthiest of scowls. Rose suddenly remembered the French speaking Howler she’d received the morning that their engagement had first been announced in <em>The Daily Prophet </em>and winced. She never had replied…not to that one, or any of the other Howlers, and now she was going to have to pay penance for it, judging from the various frowns and cold shoulders she was currently receiving.  </p>
<p>Scorpius’ fan-club, of course, was notably lacking a few particular members. Her dad, Albus and Hugo all remained sulking in the living room throughout the initial introductions. Rose caught Hugo’s eye over the various heads of her cousins – he flushed, scowled, and muttered something to Albus who grimaced and rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>Prats.</p>
<p>It took about half an hour for the two of them to even make it more than a few feet from the front door, what with the sheer volume of relatives there were to meet. It seemed every family member – regardless of how far away they lived – had deigned to attend <em>this </em>particular Sunday Lunch.</p>
<p>“Gosh, Uncle Charlie,” Rose muttered, dryly, “I can’t remember the last time you had a weekend off from the Reserves. I’m fairly sure you’ve even missed the last three Christmases. How lucky we are, that you were able to be here, today of all days.”</p>
<p>Charlie offered her a roguish grin and ruffled her curls, a move he’d been fond of ever since she was three years old. “Well, I couldn’t miss my chance to meet the latest addition to the tribe,” he nodded at Scorpius, “not to mention celebrating the engagement of my favourite niece.”</p>
<p>“Oi!” About six other heads turned round to glare at him.</p>
<p>Scorpius shook his hand, cheerfully, and launched into conversation about the effects of Muggle air pollution on Dragon migration patterns, as if it were something he read about on a daily basis.</p>
<p>Rose found it hard to take her eyes off him, truth be told. It was fascinating, really, watching Malfoy go to work, charming her family, one by one, almost as if they really were his future in-laws and he was out to make the very best of impressions. He chatted to her Uncle George about the recent spike in the rental market for properties on Diagon Alley, and his plans for expansion of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He confessed to her Aunt Ginny that he was an avid reader of her sports column in <em>The Daily Prophet </em>and was suitably bashful in front of her Uncle Harry – which earned him a playful eye-roll from Ginny and a plea not to stroke her husband’s ego any more before lunchtime.</p>
<p>Rooted to his side throughout all of this, Rose became acutely aware that Scorpius was exceptionally talented at all this…<em>diplomacy</em>, as he had termed it. She could see why he’d been fast-tracked for his promotion at work, and realised that they’d all probably be calling him “Minister” before she even made it out of her and Creevey’s shared broom cupboard. Oddly, this revelation didn’t make her feel as instantly wrathful as it once might have. </p>
<p>It was during his blatant seduction of her Uncle Percy, as Scorpius congratulated him on his recent appointment to Head of the Department for Magical Transportation, that Rose found herself ambushed.</p>
<p>“Rosie, you cow! I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” Her cousin Roxanne popped up at her elbow, yanking her over to the kitchen sink – away from her cosy little bubble of Scorpius’ one-man charm offensive – and rounding on her viciously.</p>
<p>Lily and her cousin Molly appeared at her shoulder, flanking her, and effectively trapping Rose against the kitchen counter. It was only when one of them thrust a much-needed glass of wine into her hand, that Rose realised they weren’t about to triple team Bat Bogey Hex her.  </p>
<p>“And now you owe us…” Lily wiggled her eyebrows, salaciously, “…<em>details</em>.”</p>
<p>Rose stared at the three of them in turn, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She suddenly felt like she was in fifth year again, having been dragged into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to answer a panel of questions about her date to Hogsmeade with Oliver Higgs. As she recalled, they’d been disappointed at the time by the distinct lack of groping.</p>
<p>“Err, well,” she started, taking a hefty gulp of her wine, “we met at work, of course —”</p>
<p>Roxanne clucked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance. “Not <em>those </em>sorts of details! And besides, we’ve all read Skeeter’s interview, we know all about your boring first date and trips to museums.” She rolled her eyes, as if she couldn’t imagine a duller way to get oneself proposed to. “We want to hear about the <em>other </em>stuff.”</p>
<p>“Yes, how exactly does your ‘tender caress stoke a heady fire behind Malfoy’s lifeless eyes’?” Lily smirked, and Rose recognised the quote from Rita’s nonsense article. She remembered how outraged Scorpius had been about the description of his dead gaze, remembered how she’d thrown herself on him in the enclosed space of the Ministry lifts. She recalled the sudden awareness that she was pressed up against him, her fingers brushing the nape of his neck and his hand warm on her hip, and felt her cheeks surge with colour. Her cousins spotted her darkening blush and cackled with glee.</p>
<p>“Oh, Rosie, you dark horse!” Roxanne’s face split into a wide, delighted grin. “I always knew you’d be a wild one in the sack!”</p>
<p>The girls howled again, and Rose caught Scorpius’ gaze dart over to them, clustered in the corner. <em>Oh, Merlin, Avada me now</em>, she groaned, internally, wishing they’d had time to decide upon that emergency hand signal.</p>
<p>“But what about <em>him</em>?” Lily pressed forward, her own wine sloshing dangerously against the sides of her glass, threatening Rose’s dress and shoes. “I mean, what’s he got going on under all those fancy dress-robes? The way he used to swagger about; you’ve got to assume it’s all rather impressive. Not that <em>you</em> have to assume anything, anymore, you lucky sod!”</p>
<p>“Err… I… well, I —”</p>
<p>Thankfully, Molly interrupted with her own wide-eyed confession. “<em>Gods,</em> do you remember how good he used to look in his Quidditch uniform? I’d barely be able to stay on my broom with him on the pitch.”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>yes</em>, sweet Helga…” Roxanne’s eyes had almost glazed over. “I could have watched that boy do a Wronksi Feint all afternoon…”</p>
<p>Having not been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, herself, and therefore never shared a Quidditch pitch alongside her future husband, Rose had little to offer the discussion as it veered into an analysis of their most memorable matches, in reverse order of when Scorpius had looked his most attractive. She managed to slip away, almost unnoticed, as Lily was remembering the occasion that a Bludger had all but ripped Malfoy’s shirt off in the middle of a particularly feisty Slytherin-Gryffindor grudge match, and found herself navigating back to his side.</p>
<p>Scorpius slipped an arm around her waist with casual ease, momentarily excusing himself from her Uncle Percy and glancing between her red cheeks and her cousins, still gossiping animatedly in the corner.</p>
<p>“Everything alright?” he murmured.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Rose griped into his shoulder. “But I’d avoid sitting near those three at lunch, if you value your chastity.” She felt, rather than saw, his little huff of laughter, as it lifted her curls away from her forehead.</p>
<p>“Come on,” he tugged her gently towards the living room, “I’m about to go compliment your Aunt Audrey on her taste in pyjamas. Remind me, were the Pygmy Puffs pink or purple?”</p>
<p>She swatted him on the arm, his eyes flashing teasingly, and allowed herself to be immersed back into the throng of relatives with a rather stupid smile on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>The meal itself was really something of an after-thought, though given that it had been prepared by her Grandma Molly, it was, of course, delicious.</p>
<p>Her dad, along with Albus and Hugo, had plonked themselves at the far end of the table and continued to sulk throughout lunch. Rose had started referring to this as the children’s end of the table, which her Uncle George had thoroughly enjoyed and joined in on, even offering to cut up her dad’s potatoes for him, in case he was struggling. Rose had carefully situated herself in a seat between Scorpius and Roxanne, and her Grandma Molly had eagerly taken the chair to Scorpius’ other side, meaning she was currently basking in the glow of his unadulterated attention.</p>
<p>His charm, it seemed, was infectious. As they warmed to Scorpius, Rose noticed, so too did her family thaw to her. Or rather, they’d stopped being quite so snotty with her, at least. Even Dominique had ceased her scowling, mentioning over dessert how pretty Rose had looked in <em>The Prophet </em>photograph earlier that week, which Rose knew was as good a peace offering as any from her part-Veela cousin, who frequently graced the cover of <em>Witch Weekly </em>and the like, herself.   </p>
<p>All was going remarkably smoothly, until her granddad silenced the rabble by raising his mug full of wine – evidently, they’d run out of wine glasses and he’d been given the dud.</p>
<p>“I would just like to say, on behalf of all of our family,” he gave his wife’s hand a squeeze across the table, “how nice it is to finally meet you, Scorpius. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the family, and certainly better late than never.”</p>
<p>A few murmurs of “here, here,” from a number of her uncles, a pointed but humorous look from her Aunt Ginny, and Rose felt her cheeks pink at the light admonishment. She felt Scorpius’ hand tighten reassuringly around hers, and realised they’d been holding hands under the table for a while, where no one could even see them. She supposed they were method acting, now.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr Weasley —” Scorpius paused whilst her granddad made a show of insisting he call him Arthur. “And, if I could add my own sentiments to that, thank you all for being so welcoming. I am sorry it’s taken us so long to visit, but the last few months have been something of a whirlwind for Rose and I, and I’m afraid that’s entirely my fault for keeping her so busy.”</p>
<p>There was a wolf-whistle from somewhere in the middle of the table – possibly her cousin, Fred – and Scorpius’ cheeks pinked to match hers. A ripple of amusement carried down the table.</p>
<p>“What I mean to say is,” he continued, bashfully, “whilst I must admit to being a little nervous to meet you all, Rose assured me how wonderful you all were, and was incredibly excited for us to get to know each other. And I’m delighted to say, she was right…<em>of course</em>.” He added a playful eye-roll, as if acknowledging an inside joke between them. All the married men around the table gave a small chuckle of solidarity. </p>
<p>Rose’s Granddad Arthur was beaming with patriarchal pride. He lifted his mug of wine again: “To Rosie and Scorpius!”</p>
<p>Several other glasses went up around the table, their names echoing, and Rose had a horrible thought that they were going to have to kiss again – in front of her entire family, this time. But Scorpius, it seemed, wasn’t so easily caught out a second time. Their eyes locked briefly, his lips twitching at her startled expression, before leaning over and planting a gentle but lingering kiss amidst her curls.</p>
<p>Rose breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Lily’s tutt of disappointment and Hugo pretending to throw up over his food. Scorpius’ hand gave hers another squeeze under the table and then released.</p>
<p>They’d done it. They’d achieved what they set out to accomplish by coming here. Her family was well and truly fooled, and half in love with Scorpius already. As Rose swept the table, glancing between her beaming Grandma Molly and her enraptured cousins, she found that she felt equal parts relieved and sick about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>A few hours later, as they were saying their goodbyes and preparing to walk back to Stoatshead Hill for their return Portkey, Rose stuck her head into the den, where her dad and brother were bent over a Wizard’s Chess board, lost somewhere in the middlegame.</p>
<p>Watching them for a moment, she was struck, as she often was these days, by how very much alike the two of them were. The same mop of red hair, the same long nose. The same face, really, apart from Hugo had somehow stolen their mother’s warm, brown eyes. Her own hair, she knew, was slightly darker – more auburn than ginger – and her face was rounder, more like her mother’s. The freckles, though, that was something that drew all three of them together and marked them out as belonging to each other.   </p>
<p>She cleared her throat in the doorway and the two men looked up.</p>
<p>“We’re, err, heading off, now,” Rose jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen, where she could just hear her grandma encouraging Scorpius to drop by whenever he liked and take another slice of Bakewell tart home with him.</p>
<p>Both men nodded, and Rose thought that might be that, but then Hugo climbed to his feet with a sigh. She eyed him warily, but he stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled sheepishly at her. “He doesn’t call you Rosie,” he said.</p>
<p>Rose’s eyebrows lifted. “Sorry?”</p>
<p>“I noticed,” Hugo shrugged. “Finnigan used to call you Rosie, and I hated it. Only we get to call you that. Anyway, Malfoy just calls you Rose, so…so I guess that’s okay.”</p>
<p>Rose stared at him for another moment before her gaze started to soften. She realised that was about as gracious as Hugo was ever likely to be, when it came to a man she was involved with. What a shame it had to be wasted on her fake fiancé.</p>
<p>She swallowed, thickly, and turned to her dad, who was grimacing down at the chess board as if he might be able to manoeuvre his way out of an awkward conversation. Hugo gave him a rather unsubtle nudge, and he eventually sighed and clambered up from the battered old pouffe he was perched on. His facial expression was one she’d come to recognise over the years as his ‘apology scowl.’</p>
<p>“About last week, at the flat —” he started, but Rose cut him off with a smile and a shake of the head.</p>
<p>“Already forgotten.”</p>
<p>“No, Rosie, listen. Your mum says it’s important that you know how sorry —”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes, lightly. “Yes, well, Mum says a lot of things.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t she ever.” They both shared a quiet chuckle and stared at their feet.</p>
<p>“I <em>am</em> sorry,” he snuck in, after another moment, those gigantic arms of his suddenly coming up to engulf her shoulders. “It’s not our place to try and second guess you, love. If he makes you happy – and he clearly does, that’s plain to see – then we’re all behind it. Isn’t that right, Hugo?” She heard a grunting noise of agreement from somewhere in the room.</p>
<p>Rose pressed her face into the front of her dad’s jumper and tried not to feel like the two-faced, low-life liar she actually was. “Thanks, Dad,” she managed to choke out, before pulling back quickly, offering them both a watery-eyed smile and stumbling back towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>Here, she found Albus, begrudgingly shaking hands with Malfoy and she cursed under her breath. Why was everyone suddenly trying to be the bigger person today?!</p>
<p>“You should come by the training grounds, if you’re ever down in Falmouth,” her cousin was saying. At least he was still frowning – a begrudging acceptance of his old House-mate, at best. “And Rosie knows there’s always spare tickets going for family, just drop me an owl.”</p>
<p>Scorpius nodded, respectfully. “It’s good to see you, Potter.”</p>
<p>Rose tried to picture the two men sharing a dorm-room – Scorpius ironing his boxer shorts, whilst Albus dropped sandwich crumbs all over his bed-sheets. Not the most harmonious of living arrangements, she could imagine.</p>
<p>Scorpius turned his gaze on her, then, and she jumped a little, as if she’d been caught eavesdropping.</p>
<p>“Shall we?” he held the front door open for her – the picture of an adoring fiancé – guiding her through with a hand on the small of her back.</p>
<p>There was a chorus of various <em>“goodbyes”</em> and <em>“nice to meet you, Scorpius”</em>, and one <em>“keep those hands where we can see them” </em>which was almost certainly her Uncle George, as they headed back past the broom shed towards the orchard. Scorpius turned and waved, but Rose kept her eyes firmly trained on the ground. There was a heaviness in her stomach, and she was half afraid that her Sunday lunch might make a reappearance all over the grass.  </p>
<p>They were just passing through the garden gate again, when Scorpius turned so that he was walking backwards, and fixed her with a triumphant grin. “I’d say that went exceedingly well, wouldn’t you? Merlin, at this rate, we’ll probably have convinced <em>ourselves</em> that we’re really engaged by Christmas.”</p>
<p>Rose thought of her family’s kindness, of her grandma’s warmth and her granddad’s proud smile. She thought of her brother and her dad, finding it within themselves to accept Scorpius, because they’d been hoodwinked into believing her in love with him. They were invested.</p>
<p>And this was <em>exactly</em> why she hadn’t wanted to come here today.</p>
<p>She wanted to take it all back. She wanted to find a Time-Turner and erase this whole afternoon. No – she wanted to go back even further and drag herself out of that bloody fifth floor bathroom, before she could agree to any of this ridiculousness in the first place! Because surely, this was all going to go to pieces at some point? And now it wasn’t only her and Scorpius that were going to be hurt, when it did.</p>
<p>Rose glanced up at the man in front of her and glared, ferociously. He was rather taken aback by it, actually.</p>
<p>“I think we’ve done quite enough of playing pretend, Malfoy,” she hissed at him, feeling like she’d swallowed a ball of cotton wool. “We need to hurry up and find a way to get you out of this blood oath, and then we’re going to part ways and never darken each other’s doorway again. Is that understood?”</p>
<p>He stalled, his footsteps losing their cheerful, bouncing rhythm, and stared at her for a moment, trying to catch up. Rose held his gaze, her own icy, and watched as his expression shifted and closed, until she was staring up at the familiar arsehole she knew and hated.</p>
<p>“Absolutely understood,” he clipped, falling neatly back into step with her, eyes on the horizon and jaw tense. “Quite right to keep it professional, Weasley. After all, we may be a team, temporarily, but it’s not as if we’re ever likely to be friends.”</p>
<p>He didn’t bother to ask what had dampened the mood.</p>
<p>They walked the rest of the way to Stoatshead Hill in silence. With his long strides, Malfoy quickly gained a decent distance on her, so all she had to scowl at was the back of his head for the twenty-minute walk. By the time the tattered old peg basket at the top of the hill had started to glow a bright, otherworldly blue, neither of them even wanted to look at the other. And, when they finally made it back to Rose’s flat, they both marched into their respective bedrooms without another word, doors slamming behind them.</p>
<p>Rose sank onto her bed and allowed herself a ten-minute cry before she’d try to pull herself back together. Whilst, across the hall, Scorpius swore, loudly, and cast a frustrated <em>Confringo </em>at his pillows, spending the next few hours picking feathers out of his hair. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ET - please keep your lovely messages and comments coming! Until next time - stay safe, folks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Evasions & Exes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hiya folks! I'm so pleased to finally be posting this chapter! It's taken a bloomin' age to write, catching some time in between shifts, but here it is, the blasted thing! It's also super long, because it seems I'm something of a closet masochist. Anyway, enjoy! </p><p>Thanks to Arnel 63 for their usual, sublime beta work. And thanks to everyone who wished me well on the work front - you're all amazing and thoughtful and restore my faith in the human species as a whole.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose was avoiding Scorpius.</p><p>Scorpius knew this because, as with almost everything that Rose Weasley did, she wasn’t being very subtle about it.</p><p>His first clue was her absolute refusal to step foot out of her bedroom whenever they were in the flat together. Scorpius lingered in the living room each evening, with half a hope to try and smooth things over, to talk her down from whatever ledge she’d climbed onto. He always knew it was a lost cause, however, when he’d spot the bottle of wine she Summoned come hurtling out of the kitchen, disappearing into her bedroom with another perfunctory door slam.</p><p>Scorpius would eventually retire to bed himself feeling just as sour and strangely uneasy, resolving to clear the air the following morning – a plan that had proved rather difficult to act on, as Rose had also been a total no-show at breakfast all week. </p><p>Her Pixie Puffs remained undisturbed in the box. As did their morning newspaper, which he left, untouched, for her. The pot of coffee he made each morning went cold. Scorpius was starting to feel rather offended by the rejection of his efforts, truth be told.</p><p>She would emerge, briefly, just in time to take the Floo into work. She’d generally avoid eye contact, give one-word answers to anything he asked her, and make irritated noises if he tried to engage her in any form of small talk. They would still hold hands, rather awkwardly, until they’d made it to the relative safety of the Ministry Atrium and enough people had seen them together, at which point, she would take off in the opposite direction without so much as a by-your-leave.</p><p>Scorpius found the whole situation maddeningly frustrating.</p><p>In fact, come Saturday, he’d worked himself into such a state over her obvious dismissal of him, that he found himself lingering outside her bedroom door at an unnaturally early hour. Rose rarely made it out of bed until well after nine on a weekend, so he really had no idea what he was hoping to achieve, but he’d felt painfully restless – he’d already skimmed the morning paper, and made a start on his next research assignment: <em>The Fundamental Principles of Bonding Magic: A Beginner’s Guide </em>– and hadn’t managed to go two minutes without glancing up to see if she’d emerged from her room yet, in all of her wild-haired, flannel pyjama glory.</p><p>By half eight, he was on to his fifth chapter, his third cup of coffee, and his nerves were shot at.</p><p>He paced the corridor, his wand spinning, agitatedly, between long fingers.</p><p>They hadn’t talked about whatever was bothering Rose, mostly due to the fact that she seemed unwilling to spend any time in the same room as him. Even so, he had a fairly good idea what had sent their tentatively stable arrangement veering off track, yet again.</p><p>In his quest to save his own skin by wriggling out of the blood oath by any means necessary, Scorpius had forgotten that manipulating loved ones wasn’t par for the course for most people. At Malfoy Manor, mind games and double bluffs were practically a parlour game, along with charades or Exploding Snap, and Scorpius had grown up learning that if you weren’t the one holding all the cards, that was probably because someone else had them hidden up their sleeves. His father ran circles around him all the time; his parents’ marriage was a constant battle of wits. Scorpius’ own first con had been playing them off against each other until they’d <em>both</em> bought him a Nimbus 4000 for his tenth birthday (and, honestly, he didn’t think he’d ever seen his father look more impressed with him).</p><p>It didn’t mean that they didn’t love each other, or that there was any malice to it. It was simply their way of living… of communicating, even.</p><p>The Weasleys, he’d now learnt, were nothing like that.   </p><p>And Rose, Scorpius was forever learning, was nothing like him. Not in any way that really counted.</p><p>She’d successfully hoodwinked her entire family for her own agenda, and she felt horribly guilty about it. He’d seen it, written all over her face, in the tone of her voice, even, as they left the Burrow last weekend. She felt guilty, and now – for reasons he couldn’t entirely explain – <em>he</em> was feeling guilty about her guilt.</p><p>It was ridiculous. A redundant cycle of unpleasant emotion. Totally unnecessary, really, but here they were.</p><p>The trouble was, he had no idea what to do about it. Guilt was a fairly unfamiliar concept, especially of this magnitude, and now he was faced with an abundance of the wretched emotion, gathering momentum as this dark mood festered between them. Guilt was something he liked to swiftly absolve himself of and move on from. Rose, however, was currently denying him the opportunity to do so by apparently choosing to pretend he did not exist.</p><p>How could he be expected to artfully brush all of this unpleasantness under the carpet, if she wouldn’t say more than two words to him or stay put for longer than ten seconds?</p><p>He marched to a stop in front of her bedroom door again, and was about to risk life and limb by hammering on the woodwork until she woke up, when he spotted the slip of parchment on the floor by his feet. It had half slid back under the doorframe, as if someone had stuck it up with a rushed and ineffectual Sticking Charm. </p><p>
  <em>Headed into work. Lots to do. Didn’t see the need to wake you.<br/>- R</em>
</p><p>Scorpius frowned at the frantic but familiar scrawl. How very vague and dismissive, he thought, and an absolute load of Hippogriff shite, no doubt. Merlin, the woman couldn’t even be counted on to give herself a decent alibi – thank Circe she’d never been sorted into Slytherin, he almost laughed at the notion, she’d have barely survived the week. He wondered if all Gryffindors were exceptionally terrible liars, or if she were taking a stance against it on moral grounds.</p><p>He crumpled the note in his hands and swore into the empty hallway.</p><p>That uncomfortable sense of unease was back, prickling the skin at the nape of his neck, curling between his ribs like long, calloused fingers. What on Earth was the matter with him?!</p><p>Without another thought, he turned for the living room, snatching up his robes and shoving his wand into his back pocket. Rose’s little plan of pretending he’d been jinxed with his own personal Repelling Charm had one significant flaw – he knew where her office was. If he headed there now, she’d have no choice but to talk to him and they could have this whole wretched nonsense sorted out by lunchtime.</p><p>Triumphantly, he stepped into her fireplace with a flourish of Floo powder, realising his mistake almost immediately when he was swiftly delivered to a fireplace showroom somewhere in South Wandsworth, much to the surprise of the Muggle saleswoman who softened his landing.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rose had never been to the Ministry on a weekend before.</p><p>There was something eerily different about it that she found rather fascinating, like seeing her cousin Dominique without make-up on for the first time. There were people here that she’d never seen before – a small army of witches performing cleaning charms on the vast marble floor of the Atrium, whilst a maintenance man was trying to fix the faulty water supply to the Fountain of Magical Brethren, leaning precariously over the fountain’s edge and pointing his wand at each of the underwater jets in turn. The ceiling above her was notably devoid of any pesky interdepartmental memos, and at the far end of the hall, the gleaming, golden grilles of the lifts stood open – empty and expectant – for their first customer of the day.</p><p>Rose obliged, pressing the button for Level Five and grabbing hold of one of the hanging stirrups as it shuddered and jerked into life.</p><p>She knew she was avoiding Malfoy. She also knew that he would be well aware of this by now, but Rose didn’t very much care about that. She didn’t want any reminders of what a horrible, manipulative fraud she was – lying to her friends and family, lying to the whole world, really – and having to sit across from him at breakfast, listen to him congratulating her on a job well done, would have been too much to bear.</p><p>She just couldn’t stomach it, and so she’d taken the rather cowardly route of avoiding him like a bad case of Dragon Pox all week. Not her finest hour, certainly, but it was working for her, so far.</p><p>The lift ground to a halt and the gates opened on her usual floor. The witches cleaning the Atrium must have been working their way down from the top floor, she noted – the offices were spotless. Not a file out of place, not a scrap of parchment in the waste paper bins. The carpet smelt delightfully of fresh pine. Rose wondered, idly, if they’d be up for cleaning her flat once a week, too, as she made her way past the bull pen and down silent corridors towards her little, shared office.</p><p>She hesitated as she passed the Assistant Deputy’s corner office. The door was ajar, which seemed odd for so early on a Saturday, and the only light came from the amber glow of a desk lamp, as if the cleaning brigade had forgotten to open the window blinds.</p><p>She poked her head inside, curiously. Niall Finnigan was slumped over his desk, fast asleep.</p><p>Rose faltered in surprise. Since the arrival of his owl the previous week, she’d been doing a rather splendid job of ensuring her and Niall’s paths hadn’t crossed whilst at work. This had involved spending a large amount of time in supply cupboards, and nipping to the ladies’ loo so often that Martin Creevey had begun to suspect she was suffering from a rather nasty water infection. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his note – half apology, half appeal – and so she’d decided the best course of action was to avoid him completely till she’d figured out how she felt about it.</p><p>Between hiding from Niall at work, and now Scorpius at the flat, she was beginning to wonder if simply transfiguring herself into a lampshade might be a neater solution to all of her current problems. </p><p>Quickly deciding that her traitorous ex-boyfriend was currently the lesser of the two evils, Rose stepped quietly into the office and made for the window. She opened the blinds, letting sunlight stream into the open, airy office, and tried not to feel the usual pang of jealousy over Niall’s recent promotion.</p><p>“Rosie?” Behind her, Niall cleared his throat of morning fluff, lifting his head from the desk and blinking at her, bleary eyed and startled. “You’re not usually in on the weekend…or this early…” he squinted at the watch peeking out from his shirt cuff.</p><p>She wandered closer to the desk, taking in his mussed sandy hair, the rumpled shirt. “No,” she admitted, “and you don’t normally sleep here, either…do you?” She ignored the intonation of worry that leaked into her voice. Long gone were the days when it was her job to worry about the nightly whereabouts of one Mr Finnigan. </p><p>“True,” he chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair and leaving it even more skew-whiff, if possible. “Long night,” he gestured at a stack of files that had been masquerading as a make-shift pillow. “Quarterly budget meeting coming up, the higher-ups’ll be expecting me to account for every measly Knut, no doubt.”</p><p>Rose nodded, her feet shifting awkwardly. Her thoughts on Niall making Assistant Deputy had generally focussed on how terribly unfair it was, how he hadn’t deserved it as much as she did, how she’d been professionally under-cut and her career was destined to go nowhere. She hadn’t spent much time dwelling on all the extra work and responsibility that would have come with the promotion, and how much she’d have hated filling in budget reports and playing ‘how many arses can I kiss before lunchtime?’.</p><p>“Can I help, at all?”</p><p>Niall looked up in surprise. Rose noticed the shadows beneath his eyes for the first time.</p><p>“Sure…I mean, if you have the time?” he blinked up at her, hopefully.</p><p>Rose laughed, lightly. “It’s barely dawn, Niall. For once, I have more time than I know what to do with.”</p><p>He grinned at her – a big, wide grin, that Rose remembered a little <em>too</em> fondly – and she flicked her gaze down to the stacks of parchment, instead.</p><p>“Why don’t I take half of whichever files are left and I’ll get them back to you before —”</p><p>“I see he got you a ring, in the end, then?”</p><p>Rose’s words perished on her tongue and she glanced up to find Niall staring at the ruby engagement ring on her finger. She looked down at it, too. She was so used to wearing it by now that she’d forgotten it was even there.</p><p>“Oh… yes…” Rose’s fingers twitched under all the scrutiny. “Just needed a few Re-sizing Charms, that’s all.”</p><p>Niall nodded, thoughtfully. “It’s…nice. Suits you.” He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Did you, err, did you get my owl?”</p><p>Rose winced. She’d rather hoped they might have politely side-stepped around all these murky waters – his reaction to the news of her supposed engagement and the fact that he now felt compelled to send her heart-felt missives – but apparently Niall was keen to address the Erumpent in the room.</p><p>“I did,” she said, simply, unsure where to direct her gaze and settling on the framed photo of the Irish National Quidditch team on the wall above his head. She couldn’t imagine why they’d decided to have an official team photo taken in such horrible weather. They all looked positively miserable and soaked to the bone.</p><p>“I meant what I said,” Niall lilted, softly, his gaze seeking out hers. “I <em>am</em> sorry about the other day, that was… that was poor form from me. I’d no right to start questioning you like that. And I’m happy for you… you and Malfoy, I mean. Well…” he grinned at her, ruefully, then, “I can pretend to be, at least.”</p><p>Rose stared at him, vaguely aware that her weak and traitorous heart was stuttering somewhere beneath her ribs. She didn’t really know what to say to that, so she just nodded in acknowledgment, her throat suddenly feeling full of cotton wool. Reaching for the stack of files on the desk, hoping to dispel the heavy atmosphere that was brewing between them, she paused when she felt Niall’s long fingers brush against hers.</p><p>“I just miss you, Rosie,” he smiled up at her, sadly. “And, it was a bit of a gut-punch, truth be told, hearing about the two of you through the paper like that.”</p><p>A spike of indignation cut though the blossoming nostalgia and Rose snatched her fingers away. “Well, that’s not exactly my fault, is it?” she clipped, drily.</p><p>He grimaced down at his desk. “I know, I know.” He let out a sigh of frustration. “If I thought there was anything that I could do that would make up for what I… for what happened, you know I’d do it in a heartbeat, don’t you?”</p><p>Niall was searching her face, his gaze imploring. Rose felt her stomach roll, her vision suddenly swimming with half-forgotten images of the two of them strolling hand-in-hand through Diagon Alley, him pulling her down side streets to kiss her senseless, her laughter bouncing off the brick walls. Then other memories, of going days without hearing from him, of nights where she didn’t know where he’d been. And one particular memory of arriving early at his flat after dinner with her parents – tired and worn thin by their never-ending arguments – only to find him wrapped up in his sheets with a woman she vaguely recognised from the Treasury’s secretary pool.</p><p>She didn’t own a Pensieve, but if she did, <em>that</em> certainly wouldn’t be making it into the greatest hits anytime soon.</p><p>“I…” she swallowed passed the lump in her throat. “I honestly don’t know if that makes a difference at this point, Niall.”</p><p>His eyebrows knitted, as if he didn’t like her answer.</p><p>“And besides,” she cut in, before he had chance to beseech her again. “This is hardly the time or the place to discuss it. We’re at work, you’re my boss, it’s… inappropriate.” </p><p>“It’s a Saturday…” he arched an eyebrow at her.</p><p>He had her there.</p><p>“Well…” she frowned, “you’re still my boss. Whatever day of the week it is.”</p><p>He flopped back against his chair with another sigh of frustration. “You’re not making this easy, Rosie.”</p><p>“I didn’t realise I was obliged to,” she sniffed, hoisting the files into her arms and turning to leave.</p><p>“You know,” he drawled after her, “maybe I ought to fire you.” Rose stopped dead in her tracks and turned to glare at him. She was knocked off balance by the rather sly grin he was now directing her way.</p><p>“Or have you transferred to another department, at least,” he continued. “That way you’d have no excuse not to talk to me.”</p><p>“That…seems like a fairly substantial abuse of power.” She eyed him, warily. Just because he was making a joke out of it, didn’t mean he wasn’t being serious. She might not like her job all that much, but she didn’t fancy the sound of unemployment, either. She’d have nowhere to hide from Malfoy, for a start.</p><p>He chuckled, rising from his seat and stepping around the desk towards her, hands in his pockets. “I’m messing with you, Rosie, I wouldn’t do that. Besides, how would I be able to keep my eye on you, if your office wasn’t just down the hall?”</p><p>Rose frowned up at him as he stepped closer towards her. She was within arm’s reach now, she realised, if he decided he wanted to reach out and touch her. She was thankful when his hands remained tucked inside his pockets.</p><p>Niall was still offering her that lopsided grin, the one where he tilted his head just so and his eyes glinted, as if there was an inside joke that only the two of them were in on. Once upon a time that would have made her weak at the knees. Now… now she didn’t really know how it made her feel, only that she was exhausted from the effort it took, constantly trying to hide how much of an effect he still had on her.</p><p>She shook her head, tightly, her curls brushing the backs of her shoulders. “Niall, we broke up over eight months ago. And you’ve barely spoken two words to me since, unless it was about a case. Now, all of a sudden, you’d like for me to believe that you’ve been trying to make amends this whole time —”</p><p>“I know the timing isn’t great —”</p><p>“It’s downright suspicious, is what it is.”</p><p>“I thought you wanted space,” he shrugged, hands raking through his hair again. “Things ended so suddenly –,” he artfully glossed over the specifics, “– and then I got the promotion… things felt too tense between us to try and clear the air, until now.”</p><p>“And, this feels like your golden opportunity, does it?” She narrowly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.</p><p>He fixed her with his best remorseful stare, a sad sort of smile tugging at his lips. “Sort of seems like it might be the last chance I get.”</p><p>Rose felt his fingertips brush against the back of her hand, lingering over the gold band with the ruby and diamond setting. Her skin prickled with heat even as her brain’s in-built alarm system started screaming blue murder. Reflexively, she made to jerk her hand out of reach, the files she was holding slipping to the ground to land between their feet. They both stared down at them for a second and when Rose glanced up again, it was as if Niall had closed the gap between them when she wasn’t looking. Light hazel eyes grazed across her open expression. His proximity was starting to make her feel dizzy, and not in a pleasant, giddy sort of way. </p><p>“You d-don’t…” she frowned at the sound of her own stuttering. Her voice sounded very far away. She cleared her throat and sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t need to worry. Consider the air cleared. No hard feelings and all that. I’m perfectly capable of keeping things professional.”</p><p>“Rosie, that’s not what I mean —”</p><p>“I know what you mean,” she snapped, and suddenly, she was moving, her feet creating the distance she craved as she side-stepped away from the man in front of her. “On second thoughts, I don’t think I am going to be able to help you with the budget meeting, after all. I’ve just remembered that… that I’m meeting someone for lunch —”</p><p>“Let me guess… Malfoy?” Niall scowled as if she wasn’t perfectly entitled to spend time with the man she was engaged to be wed to. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Rosie, I really think we have more to talk about…”</p><p>“And I’m fairly certain we’ve said all there is to say. You should go home, get some proper rest. I’ll see you on Monday, Niall.”</p><p>She held her head high, with a steely surety that her nerves didn’t really possess, and left before he could call her name another time, although she heard it from out in the hallway.</p><p>Rose held her breath until she made it to the safety of her own office, where it fell out of her in a shaky, gasping exhale. Her fingers were trembling, she couldn’t really remember why she’d come to work today in the first place, and her mind wouldn’t sit still long enough to hold a coherent thought. She couldn’t stay put, she knew that much – partly because her office was all of two by two metres and she felt like a caged animal with all of this new, anxious energy, but also because Niall knew exactly where her office was and could very easily follow her in here to continue their conversation.</p><p>The one that had been heading in a very dangerous direction. The one she didn’t trust herself not to get swept up in and say the wrong thing.</p><p>She rummaged through her desk drawer with shaky fingers, looking for purpose, eventually landing on a set of her notes and plans for the upcoming viaduct reconstruction. The thought of it felt like a soothing balm against the inside of her skull, softening the blows of her otherwise spiralling thoughts. She snatched up the pieces of parchment, along with a few files from her shelves, and set off back towards the ministry lifts at pace, in search of a new hiding spot.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Scorpius was rather frazzled by the time he made it all the way up to Level Five: Department of International Magical Cooperation.</p><p>Having spent the best part of the morning performing the necessary Memory Charms to ensure the Statute of Secrecy remained intact, and then pretending to be interested in buying a log-burning stove from the friendly saleswoman with new onset amnesia, he was already somewhere near the end of his tether by the time he made it to Rose’s office.</p><p>His patience was further tested when he discovered that she wasn’t even there. But someone else was.</p><p>“Finnigan,” Scorpius came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the other man loitering in the middle of room.</p><p>Equally startled, Niall turned and immediately fixed him with a rather obvious sneer of displeasure. <em>Merlin</em>, Scorpius raised an eyebrow, he looked almost as put out as the Muggle saleswoman, when he’d informed her that he wouldn’t be buying the marble-effect fire surround with the matching fire-guard, after all.</p><p>“What are you doing in here?” Scorpius eyed him warily. He got the distinct impression that had he arrived five minutes later, he might have caught the man rifling through a desk drawer, or something of the sort.</p><p>Niall’s scowl darkened. “I could ask you the same question. Is there something I can help you with, Malfoy?”</p><p>“Actually, I was looking for Weasley… unsurprisingly, considering this is<em> her</em> office.”</p><p>“She’s not here,” Niall offered, bluntly.</p><p>“I can see that…” Scorpius had the fleeting thought that Niall really wasn’t as intelligent as he looked, and that was really rather saying something, as he didn’t look very intelligent at all. “Do you, perhaps, know where she <em>is</em>?”</p><p>“Meeting you for lunch, apparently.”</p><p>That rather stopped Scorpius in his tracks. Oh, was she now? That was news to him. He hated to imagine the stupid look he was likely giving Finnigan at that precise moment.</p><p>“Yes…right. Which is exactly why I’m here, to collect her for said lunch. Although, now I come to think of it, perhaps she said to meet at the café…” Scorpius made a show of looking forgetful. “I’ll leave you to it, then —”</p><p>“Actually, Malfoy, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Niall stopped him making a timely escape.</p><p>Scorpius clenched his teeth in annoyance, watching as the other man levitated something over from one of the desks. He felt himself bristle, immediately on edge, as Finnigan unfolded what appeared to be an old copy of <em>The Daily Prophet, </em>instantly recognising the front-page photo of Rose and himself, taken at his mother’s surprise engagement party.</p><p>Niall smiled at him, grimly. “I was reading this… <em>charming </em>interview with the two of you. Skeeter has quite the soft spot for you both, doesn’t she?”</p><p>Scorpius thought of the old bat’s comments on his apparently ‘lifeless gaze’ and felt the need to disagree.</p><p>“I couldn’t help but notice,” Niall continued, with an unusual smugness that was making Scorpius’ teeth grate, “that she mentions what a whirlwind four months it’s been for the pair of you.”</p><p>Scorpius narrowed his gaze. He had a niggling feeling he wasn’t going to like wherever this was going. “Yes, I suppose you could say I swept Weasley off her feet...”</p><p>Niall’s jaw twitched. “Funny thing is, Malfoy, I have it on good authority that you were still seeing Natasha Wood from Games &amp; Sports four months ago… so something’s just not quite adding up, there, is it?”</p><p>Scorpius simply stared. Of all the people they’d encountered in these last few weeks, Niall <em>bloody</em> Finnigan was the first person to call them out on their story? The sheer unlikelihood of it was almost laughable. Why in the name of Salazar’s slimy balls was the Layabout Leprechaun even paying them any attention? As far as he knew, Finnigan’s interests ranged from his own reflection, to Quidditch, to which members of the secretary pool were recently single – without much in between.</p><p>And then Scorpius remembered hearing that irritating, lilting accent of his calling Weasley <em>‘Rosie’</em>. And, suddenly, it all made sense.</p><p>So, <em>that’s</em> what this was about, Scorpius thought. Fuck.</p><p>“Look, Finnigan, I’m not sure what you think you’re getting at —”</p><p>“Then let me spell it out for you,” the Irishman offered, with forced joviality. “Either, for some reason, you felt the need to lie to Skeeter in your interview, or <em>you’ve </em>been lying to Rose from the start. I wonder how she’d feel knowing that her future husband had been sleeping with other women at the beginning of your so-called whirlwind romance?”</p><p>The smug smirk was back with a vengeance. The man really thought he had him over a barrel, Scorpius realised. If his entire future didn’t currently rest on everyone believing what Skeeter had written in her ridiculous article, then he would have thoroughly enjoyed telling Niall exactly where he could shove it.</p><p>Scorpius took a step further into the room, his jaw set. He could feel the reassuring outline of his wand in his back pocket. “Don’t you have something better to do, Finnigan, than gossip about my fiancée and I, collecting clippings for your scrap-book?” he nodded towards the paper now lying on the desk between them. His own face grinned up at them, suavely.</p><p>Niall’s lip curled. “There’s a simple enough solution to all of this, Malfoy. You tell her, or I will,” he ground out.</p><p>“She already knows,” Scorpius shrugged, a little too blithely. “We weren’t exclusive during the first few weeks of dating. Of course, once I realised the sincerity of my affections for Weasley, just how perfect we were for each other, then I called things off with Natasha, immediately. You can ask Wood, herself. I’m afraid I was rather abrupt with her.”</p><p>Niall blinked at him, stupidly. “And, Rose was okay with that, was she?” he barked. “Seeing other people?” He seemed to scoff at the notion. “That’s not the Rosie I know, and I don’t believe you.”</p><p>Scorpius’ temper flared, then, and he drew himself up to his full height. Niall still had a few inches on him, annoyingly, but that didn’t deter him. He took another step forward, palms flat on Rose’s desk between them. A picture of her, Albus, and another cousin that Scorpius couldn’t remember the name of, waved cheerfully from within a photo frame, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling above them.</p><p>“I’d wager…” Scorpius drawled, “that the <em>‘Rosie’</em> you knew doesn’t even exist anymore, Finnigan. And, honestly, she’s a damn-sight better for it.” Niall’s scowl darkened. “I don’t know exactly what happened between the two of you, and I’m not sure I particularly care for the details. But if you ever try to meddle in our relationship again, I will personally see to it that your arse is brought before a harassment tribunal, quicker than your father was asked to step down as manager of your beloved Irish National team. Remind me, was it six consecutive losses or seven, that finally got him the boot?”</p><p>Niall looked like he’d enjoy nothing better than to hex him square in the face. Scorpius had to work very hard to tamp down his widening grin.</p><p>“Now, we both know the Wizengamot have far more important things to concern themselves with than your inability to keep your nose out of other people’s business,” Scorpius continued, arching one superior eyebrow in his best imitation of his own father. “So, for your sake, I’ll consider the matter closed.”</p><p>With a final nod at Finnigan – whose face had turned a most unflattering shade of puce – Scorpius straightened and strode for the door. He’d just made it out in to the hallway when, predictably, he heard the other man calling after him.</p><p>Morons like Finnigan never seemed to know when to leave well enough alone.</p><p>“Rosie and I have a history…” Niall’s voice cracked with impotent rage. Scorpius didn’t bother to stop or turn around. “And we both know how much that girl <em>loves </em>her history. It’s only a matter of time before she sees you for the snake that you are, Malfoy. Then we’ll see whose shoulder she chooses to cry on!”</p><p>With a casual flick of his wand, Scorpius revelled in the sound of all the contents of a bookshelf flying towards Finnigan in an explosion of parchment and paper. He could apologise to Rose later for trashing her office. It was worth it, to imagine her copy of <em>Belgian Wizarding Law and its Origins in the Franco Revolution</em> – well over eight hundred pages long and with a particularly rigid spine – colliding squarely with the Layabout Leprechaun’s face.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>It took Malfoy almost another hour, but he eventually found Rose hunkered down in a dusty corner of the Ministry Archives.</p><p>The Archives were situated on one of the deepest levels of the Ministry, a neighbour to the Department of Mysteries, and honestly, Scorpius would have likely never found her there if he hadn’t bribed one of the cleaning witches to tell him where she’d last seen the pretty girl with red hair headed to.</p><p>Scorpius didn’t particularly like the Archives. They were too quiet and too still. There were no windows, to protect the various books and artefacts from light damage, and the air always felt stale, like no one had breathed it in for decades. It lacked the charm of other libraries – like the Manor’s or Hogwarts’ own – as there were no warm mahogany shelves or over-stuffed chairs for one to entrench oneself in. Instead, it was all wrought iron shelving and black tiled floors. Metal folding chairs for those who <em>insisted </em>on lingering longer than the necessary.</p><p>It housed the sort of bureaucratical information that no one – except, possibly, Rose’s Uncle Percy – would ever be interested in: copies of each annual Wizarding Census, blueprints for any Ministry owned buildings and copies of contracts, employee files and Wand Registries. There were, however, a few dusty aisles towards the back of the vast and dimly lit hall that Scorpius knew housed a small collection of Ministry owned antiquities and important historical documents.</p><p>He found Rose, as he’d predicted, down one such aisle, bent over a small and rather utilitarian metal desk, and using her own wand as an additional reading light. In the soft glow of her <em>Lumos, </em>he could see her eyes looked red and raw. His gut twisted in that unpleasant way that he’d come to associate with his newfound conscience feeling rather unhappy with itself.</p><p>“Weasley —”</p><p>Scorpius managed to startle the both of them with the sound of his own voice. It sounded deafeningly loud in the otherwise stale silence of the vast room, bouncing off the surrounding shelves and causing Rose to jump right out of her seat with a squeak, brandishing her wand at him and narrowly avoiding blinding him in one eye. </p><p>“<em>Sweet Helga</em>, Malfoy,” her chest heaved, shoulders sagging with relief when she caught sight of him. “You need to start wearing louder shoes.”  </p><p>Scorpius batted her wand out of his face and scowled. “And <em>you</em> need to find less terrifying places to hide. I reckon I could <em>Avada </em>you, right here, and no one would find the body for at least a month.”</p><p>“How wonderfully reassuring,” she sniped, brushing her hair out of her face as she tried to steady her breathing. “I thought you might be… someone else.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace.</p><p>“Finnigan, by any chance?”</p><p>Rose blinked up at him. “How did you —”</p><p>Scorpius’ jaw clenched, reflexively, and he glanced away down the darkened row. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one who’s had a run-in with that particular boggart, today. Oh, and you need to start locking your office door.”</p><p>“<em>Merlin</em>. Do I even want to know why?” Rose pulled a face.</p><p>“You’ll probably sleep better if you don’t.”</p><p>Rose nodded, tiredly, apparently willing to simply accept this, and sagged back against the desk she’d been working on. Scorpius studied her more closely, then. She looked truly miserable, he realised; exhausted and drawn. Her lower lip was unusually plump as if she’d chewed it half to death already, and her eyes were red-rimmed, cheeks damp with salty streaks. Scorpius felt that horrible sense of unease again and a sudden desire to fix whatever had upset her, to offer her anything – <em>everything</em> – if she’d just cheer up and tell him it wasn’t his fault.</p><p>“Have you been crying?”</p><p>“No!” Rose said a little too quickly, even as her eyes glistened with the promise of fresh tears.  “My… corneas are just sweaty.” She quickly swiped her robe sleeve across her face to hide the evidence.</p><p>“Weasley…”</p><p>“Look, maybe you should just leave me alone,” she sniffed, fiddling with the corner of a nearby piece of parchment and avoiding his gaze. “In case it wasn’t already obvious, I didn’t come down here for the sociable atmosphere.”</p><p>He shook his head, tiredly. “I can’t do that, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Can’t or won’t?”</p><p>He huffed out a dry laugh. “A bit of both, I expect.”</p><p>Rose stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh – a long, drawn out thing that left her looking small and defeated. Scorpius watched as she ground the heel of both palms into her eye-sockets and gave her head little shake.</p><p>“I’m sorry...” she glanced up at him, again, cheeks pink. “I know I’ve behaved…<em>poorly </em>this week. I just didn’t know how to face… well, any of it, really. And that included you. Sometimes I feel like I ought to have let that bloody hat put me in Hufflepuff like it suggested.”</p><p>Scorpius felt his eyebrows shoot for his hairline. “You were a hat-stall?”</p><p>“That’s not really the point I was making, Malfoy —”</p><p>“So was I.”</p><p>Rose faltered, her mouth ajar. “<em>Really</em>?” She blinked at him. “I always assumed you came out of the womb wearing green and silver … Which other House did it want to put you in?”</p><p>“Ah,” Scorpius allowed himself a small smirk, “now if I told you that, I’d have to Obliviate you, and that’d be the second Memory Charm in one day for me, so I’d really rather not.” Rose frowned and was almost certainly about to enquire who else’s memory he’d been meddling with, when Scorpius shook his head, gravely. “Don’t ask, but I’m fixing that fireplace of yours if it’s the last thing I do on this Earth.”</p><p>Rose let out a rather wet sounding snort, her shoulders shaking, lightly. Scorpius felt himself breathe a little deeper, as if a small weight had been lifted at the sight of her smile.</p><p>“Actually…” he offered, tentatively, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I think I’m the one who ought to be sorry.”</p><p>Rose simply stared at him, her eyes wet and sparkling.</p><p>“I… shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, last week. You were obviously upset when we left your grandparent’s house and I reacted badly —”</p><p>“Are you implying I’m upset because you said you didn’t want to be my friend?” she frowned at him, incredulously.</p><p>Scorpius merely rolled his eyes. “No! Will you let me finish, woman? <em>Merlin</em>…”</p><p>Rose huffed, folding her arms and turning to scowl at some nearby shelves.</p><p>He took a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t think I realised what I was asking of you, involving your family like that. It’s… different for me… obviously. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by keeping up this charade.” He sighed, too, then, moving until he was perched on the desk next to her, their shoulders touching. He stared up at the gloomy, vaulted ceiling as he continued, “I hadn’t fully considered what I was asking you to put on the line, or that things would get so complicated, so quickly. Your family don’t deserve the mess they’ve been dragged into.”</p><p>Scorpius fidgeted, making the desk creak beneath them, the sound echoing off the surrounding shelves and filling the otherwise silence that fell between them. After a minute that felt more like an hour, he felt Rose shifting to face him. He met her gaze in the dim light, a streak of panic cutting through him when he found fresh tears cascading between her freckles.</p><p>“Thank you for saying that… but I don’t… I don’t blame you for all that.” She shook her head, emphatically, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and blinking, suspiciously quickly. “I can’t, really, even though I might like to. After all, <em>I’m </em>the one that dragged them into all of this by agreeing to help you in the first place. And for <em>money</em>, no less.” She made an odd sort of choking sound. “I never knew my soul had a price-tag, but apparently it’s worth a suspiciously similar amount to the projected costs of rebuilding a particular viaduct.”</p><p>Rose glanced down, fingering the corner of a royal blue memo on the desk between them. Scorpius didn’t need to study it to know it would contain details of the funds he’d set aside for her and the restoration project, currently sitting in a Ministry account with her name on.</p><p>Scorpius bent his head to hers, seeking out her gaze. “Weasley… as loathe as I am to admit it, this viaduct of yours is a…” he grimaced, reluctantly, “well, it’s a worthy cause, I suspect. Sweet Salazar, if you want to have a debate about what constitutes a morally dubious choice, I once ratted out Nott for cheating in Charms because I fancied the girl he was seeing.”</p><p>Rose snorted. “You didn’t?”</p><p>“I did,” he nodded, gravely, leaning back on his hands. “And, what’s more, I then seduced the girl in question whilst he was serving detention for said crimes.”</p><p>Rose huffed out a shaky laugh. “Malfoy, that’s <em>terrible</em>… But you were a teenager. Hormonally programmed to make morally dubious choices. This is different. And, for the first time ever, I’m…” She looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. “I’m genuinely worried that I might be a bad person.”</p><p>Scorpius frowned at her. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”</p><p>“Well, the evidence is rather stacking up against me.” She gestured at the royal blue memo and wiggled her ring adorned finger at him.</p><p>“Weasley…” he sighed, again, and searched for the right words, gazing up at the towering shelves full of old documents and dusty boxes, as if they might provide him with the answer. “Though you have many, <em>many </em>faults – you’re impossibly grumpy first thing in the morning, and have all the grace of a three-legged troll, to name but a few – you are anything <em>but </em>a bad person.”</p><p>Rose glowered at him, half-heartedly. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. A seal of approval from <em>you</em> seems like something of a character assassination, in and of itself.”</p><p>“Look,” Scorpius offered her another, rather withering eye roll, “do you know why I came to you<em>, </em>first, when I realised how much trouble I was in with this bastard blood oath?”</p><p>Rose blinked in confusion. “You said you needed someone who wouldn’t make things messy and emotional… And you had something to bribe me with, of course.” She sniffled into her robe sleeve.</p><p>“Well, yes, both technically true,” Scorpius winced. “But I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week, mostly because you weren’t arguing with me, so I had a lot of spare time… I think, on some level, I knew you would want to help me. Even though you hated me, and I, frankly, enjoyed making your work life that little bit more miserable whenever the opportunity arose. I think I instinctively knew that if I turned up looking desperate, you wouldn’t be able to turn me down.”</p><p>“So, you’re saying you used me?”</p><p>He nodded. “Absolutely. I used your inherently kind-hearted nature against you for my own nefarious purposes. You’re a good person, Weasley, and I know that because I took full advantage of it.”</p><p>Rose stared at him, then, her expression unreadable. Scorpius stared back, his gaze never wavering.</p><p>In the glow of her wand, he watched her brow furrow lightly as she attempted to decide how she felt about all of that. She still looked pale, but her cheeks now had dabs of colour to them, the tear-tracks slowly drying up. Scorpius’ eyes were momentarily drawn to her lower lip, as it was pulled between her teeth once again, and he was struck by a foreign urge to coax it free, to press his own against it and lure it out with a slow and lingering kiss.</p><p>The air in his lungs suddenly felt trapped there.</p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time, his brain supplied, unhelpfully. She’d tasted of toothpaste and champagne – a strange but memorable combination – when they’d kissed at their so-called engagement party. He wondered what she’d taste of now.</p><p>Blinking quickly, Scorpius tore his gaze away to stare at the opposite shelves. He tried to focus on the various file names he could see, even as his mind was suddenly noticing how very close they were sitting and how very alone they were, here in the dark and empty Archives…</p><p>
  <em>Gringotts Goblin Registry 1991-1994</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gringotts Goblin Registry 1995-1998</em>
</p><p>No one would be likely to disturb them, if she decided to kiss him back…</p><p>
  <em>Gringotts Goblin Registry 1999-2002</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gringotts Goblin Registry 2003-2006. </em>
</p><p>Salazar, was it really necessary for them to compile one of these every three years? Was it really that hard to keep track of how many goblins one employed?</p><p>
  <em>Gringotts Goblin Registry 2008-2011</em>
</p><p>Wait, what happened to 2007? Did they forget to count them? Did someone lose the goblins?</p><p>Scorpius was halfway out of his seat, fully intending to investigate the peculiar case of the missing Goblin census, when a pair of small, slender arms curled tightly around his waist. He faltered and glanced down in surprise, just as Rose pressed her wet and warm face into his chest.</p><p>It took him a moment to remember how to move. His arms jerked slowly to life, eventually settling around Rose’s shoulders, fingers entangling in her free curls. He noted, absently, that her hair smelled of the lavender shampoo he kept studying the label of in the shower. Her head fit snugly just beneath his chin.</p><p>“Thanks, Malfoy.” Scorpius felt rather than heard her words, as she breathed them into his robes.</p><p>“What for?” he muttered, hoarsely.</p><p>He felt her lips curl into a grin. “For being a git.”</p><p>He chuckled, lowly, the sound reverberating through both of their chests. “Anytime. In fact, you can reliably count on it. Now, can we please leave? I miss our old hiding spot and this place isn’t nearly as inviting as the fifth-floor ladies’ bathroom.”</p><p>She laughed and nodded, her head tipping back to grin up at him. Scorpius locked eyes with her for a moment, taking note of the damp eyelashes that clung together – dark rings around brilliant blue irises – and felt his mouth go dry. He blinked, momentarily disappointed as her arms unfolded from around his waist, and stood, awkwardly, as she busied herself collecting up the various bits of parchment she’d been working on.</p><p>In an attempt to occupy his hands, Scorpius picked up the book she’d laid open on the desk, eyebrows arching when he read the title.</p><p>“Did you bring this from the flat?” It was a copy of <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight</em>, only this one looked much more well-read – the pages marked, the spine bent – than the one Scorpius had in his trunk.</p><p>“No, I found it here,” Rose pointed up to an empty spot on a nearby shelf. “Some of these antiques are from intestate estates…” She grinned when Scorpius stared at her blankly. “If a person dies with no relatives and no living will,” she explained, “the Ministry is entitled to do as they see fit with their possessions. They’ve stored some of the more historical items here, see?”</p><p>Scorpius peered up at the rows above Rose’s desk. He could make out the outline of a number of objects, some partly hidden beneath white dust sheets, all of which looked old and potentially valuable. There were a number of vases and old trunks, an antique clock or two, and a selection of brass contraptions that he had no ideas as to the purpose of. Another shelf was lined with marble busts, whose eyes seemed to follow you around the room, and that Scorpius was glad he hadn’t noticed until now.</p><p>“I used to come down here sometimes if I’d had a bad day at work, just to have a nosey,” Rose shrugged. “I found a collection of first editions once, and that was amongst them. I thought I might as well do a bit more research whilst I was… hiding.” She smiled at him, sheepishly. Scorpius felt something in his chest jolt, unnaturally.</p><p>“Apparently,” she continued, “this one belonged to the Ollivander family. There’s also a fascinating collection of texts relating to Wand Lore, as you might expect.”</p><p>“I imagine that rather depends on your definition of fascinating,” he muttered, ignoring Rose’s eyeroll and flipping through the musty pages.   </p><p>Without really meaning to, he stopped on the page dedicated to the Weasley family. As with the copy they had back at the flat, the family tree was notably faded, indicating that they had lost their ‘sacred’ status by marrying outside of pure- or half-blood circles. His eyes flitted from name to name. Now that he’d met and spent time with some of these people, the list took on new meaning. He found Molly Prewett, married to Arthur Weasley; 4<sup>th</sup> November 1969. Then the list of their children –</p><p>
  <em>William Arthur Weasley; born 29th November 1970; married Fleur Isabelle Delacour, 1<sup>st</sup> August 1997   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Charles Gideon Weasley; born 12th December 1972; married Stefan Andrei Muller, 12<sup>th</sup> January 1999. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Percy Ignatius Weasley; born 22<sup>nd</sup> August 1976; married Audrey Margaret Selwyn, 22<sup>nd</sup> August 2004 —  </em>
</p><p>Scorpius was aware that Rose was saying something, packing up the last of her things as she chatted, animatedly, about the various discoveries she’d made rummaging around down here over the years. It was actually very distracting, considering he suddenly found himself on the precipice of a very important discovery.</p><p>“Weasley, would you shut up for a second?”</p><p>Rose paused, open-mouthed, and turned to glare at him in indignation.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean —… it’s just that…” He frowned down at the book, open in his hands. “Your Uncle Percy married a Selwyn.”</p><p>Rose blinked at him in surprise. “Err, yes. Aunt Audrey… with the terrible taste in pyjamas, remember?”</p><p>“Yes, but…the Selwyns are one of the remaining <em>Sacred Twenty-Eight</em> families and… according to the dates in here, they were married on your uncle’s twenty-eighth birthday.”</p><p>It took Rose another couple of seconds to catch on. Scorpius saw the exact moment she made the same connection as he had – her eyebrows shot for her hairline, her eyes widening into saucers, and she jumped to his side to read over his shoulder. Scorpius got another whiff of lavender shampoo and he blinked, hard, to continue focusing on the book.</p><p>“<em>Merlin</em>, you’re right…” she breathed. It tickled his neck and made his skin warm. “And my parents didn’t marry until the following year which means…”</p><p>“…He was still beholden to the blood oath, at the time,” Scorpius finished for her.</p><p>They turned and stared at each other in the near darkness. This was it – their first, actual, proper clue. Scorpius felt Rose’s hand grip his sleeve. His pulse sped.</p><p>“I think… we ought to have a little chat with your Uncle Percy.”</p><p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Uncle Percy receives the Spanish Inquisition, even though he never expected it (no one ever does), Scorpius is confused and Rose is generally flabbergasted.</p><p>As always - I love to hear from you! If you have a minute to leave a comment, it's appreciated massively.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Uncles & Uncertainty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Hello again my fellow trope lovers. This is probably my favourite chapter so far, not for any particular reason other than it was fun to write and, hey, that's what this is all about, after all. I hope you like it too!</p><p>Thanks as always to the brilliant Arnel63. I don't know how she finds the time to beta this so thoroughly and quickly but she always amazes me. </p><p>And thank you for all the lovely comments so far. You guys are funny.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“But I thought… I thought your parents said the oath hadn’t been activated in years?”</p><p>“They did, but…” Scorpius lowered his voice as they scurried past the prying ears of one of the Ministry cleaning witches, his head down as they half jogged towards the Floo point. “How else do you explain it? Maybe they didn’t know?”</p><p>Rose scoffed, disbelievingly. “You mean there isn’t some sort of innate pure-blood alarm that goes off any time some poor unmarried soul comes of age?”</p><p>“Oh, like our inborn ability to smell someone’s blood status from three yards away, you mean? Or, were you thinking more literally? Like the bell that rings in the Manor every time someone gets sorted into Slytherin?”</p><p>Rose eyed him, suspiciously, as he chivvied her along by the elbow.</p><p>Scorpius caught her glance and choked on air. “I’m joking, Weasley. Sweet Circe, you have a strangely low opinion of me.”</p><p>“There’s nothing strange about it,” she muttered. “You earned it fair and square.”</p><p>Scorpius grimaced, but refused to get embroiled in another debate about his various shortcomings. Not now, when they were on the brink of a potentially significant turning point in their – so far – limitedly successful campaign to better understand the blasted blood oath. He bundled her into the fireplace with slightly less care then he might have otherwise, however, and pointedly didn’t apologise when he stepped on her toes.</p><p>“Ow, Malfoy —”</p><p>Rose’s protests were smothered by Scorpius yelling out her address, the rather excessive handful of Floo powder he tossed at their feet billowing up her nose and making her sneeze, before they were spat out, a moment later, into Rose’s living room.</p><p>Spat out, very literally.</p><p>On this occasion, Rose’s fireplace had chosen to neglect the fundamental laws of gravity, turning their world almost a full ninety degrees so that they shot out entirely sideways. Rose’s shriek at the sight of her carpet hurtling towards them was almost as loud as Scorpius’ grunt of pain as they crashed into the sofa, upending the coffee table and sending a plethora of decorative cushions flying into the ether. Their legs were entangled, Rose’s arm wedged into his armpit, whilst Scorpius choked on a mouthful of lavender scented curls.</p><p>“<em>Fucking Hell!</em>” Scorpius coughed up an auburn coloured hairball.</p><p>His outrage seemed to recover Rose from the shock of being so unceremoniously tossed asunder, and she broke into a fit of rather poorly received giggles.</p><p>Scorpius heaved himself onto one elbow and scowled down at the woman pinned beneath him, now cackling with mirth. “Not a single thing about this is amusing, Weasley!” he snapped. “You cannot convince me that your fireplace isn’t actively trying to murder us both, at this point.”</p><p>Rose snorted inelegantly, her chest heaving with the effort it took to laugh and breath at the same time. “I believe you insinuated something about fixing the wretched thing?”</p><p>“How about we just rip the bloody thing out of the wall and call it a day?”</p><p>Scorpius’ ire brought a fresh wave of delight out of Rose. She beamed widely, laughing unbidden, and didn’t seem to even care that they were currently entwined on her living room floor, or that Scorpius was half crushing her into the rug.</p><p>Scorpius blinked down at her in bemusement. In the three weeks since they’d begrudgingly joined forces, this was the first time he’d actually seen her laugh. Fine, probably not true – she laughed <em>at </em>him all the time, sure. But this was definitely the first time he’d seen her reduced to actual tears of amusement, her smile so infectious and unguarded that it practically begged for him to join in her delight.</p><p>His traitorous mouth started to twitch up around the corners until it mirrored hers. He couldn’t make the same rather adorable little hiccups of noise she was now exuding, but he did manage to huff a beleaguered laugh out through his nose – which sent Rose off into another bout of titters – and felt his frown relaxing, his eyes softening, as he allowed himself to revel in the ridiculousness of the situation.</p><p>Rose wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand, attempted to blow her errant curls out of her face – which only blew them straight into Scorpius’ – and beamed up at him.</p><p>Scorpius made the surprising discovery that Weasley had a rather disarming smile. How had he never noticed that before, he wondered?</p><p>“Get off me, you absolute oaf!” She jarred him from his strangely wandering thoughts with a shove to his shoulder. “Merlin, for someone so lanky and pointy, you practically weigh as much as a Quidditch team.”</p><p>Mortally offended, Scorpius rolled off her with an indignant huff.   </p><p>They righted themselves slowly, Rose pulling one of the various books they’d been studying out from under her spine, whilst Scorpius cricked his neck uncomfortably and straightened his robes.</p><p>“So,” he cleared his throat, “Knight Bus or Apparition to your uncle’s?”</p><p>“What, <em>right now</em>?” Rose blinked at him, looking almost as startled as when he’d first pointed out that a member of her own family had married, very suspiciously, on their twenty-eighth birthday.  </p><p>“Well, no time like the present, Weasley. We’ve been chasing our own tails for almost a full month. Now we actually have a lead, I’m hardly going to sit on my hands.”</p><p>“I understand that,” she frowned, “but we can’t exactly go barrelling into his living room, demanding to know if he was forced to marry my aunt by some centuries old dark magic, can we?”</p><p>Scorpius winced. “Well, not when you put it so indelicately…”</p><p>“Not to mention, that it would seem awfully suspicious for you – my supposedly doting fiancé – to start demanding answers about how to avoid marrying another woman.”</p><p>“Fine, then,” Scorpius huffed, arms folding in front of his chest. It was inordinately annoying when Weasley actually had a valid point. “What do you suggest?”</p><p>“We need to strategise,” she insisted, shaking out her tussled curls and searching amongst the scattered cushions for her trustworthy notebook and quill. “We need to find a way to approach this – Uncle Percy, I mean – without raising too many eyebrows… or questions… or questioning eyebrows, for that matter.” </p><p>Scorpius snorted out a laugh. “I think what you’re suggesting, Weasley, is that we need a ruse.”</p><p>“Yes,” she said primly, sitting down on the sofa and patting the empty seat cushion beside her. “Another one, to add to our ever-growing collection.”</p><p>His snort turned into a chuckle. “Well, look at you. Quite the Slytherin in training.”</p><p>Rose fixed him with an indignant glare, even as she tugged him by the sleeve till he was sat snugly against her. “And if you value my continued participation in said schemes, you’ll refrain from <em>ever </em>calling me that again.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Percy Weasley was a man of strict routine.</p><p>He was awoken each morning at six AM, sharp, to his wand playing the tune of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. A firm believer in starting the day with the right mentality, there was nothing better, he had found, for instilling in one the correct sense of determined majesty that had seen him reach the dizzying vocational heights of Head of the Department for Magical Transportation, all before the age of fifty-seven.</p><p>His breakfast typically consisted of half a grapefruit – unsweetened – and a slice of wholemeal toast. He took his tea with a dash of milk, only. Excess sugar was for people who liked to live recklessly when it came to their cardiovascular health, and he certainly wasn’t one of them. His shower temperature was always set for a cool and refreshing 20 degrees Celsius, after he’d read several articles about the potential benefits of frigid water for both body and mind, and he always – <em>always – </em>brushed his teeth for the recommended two minutes. Percy was, naturally, the poster boy of flossing.</p><p>He had five sets of the same robes, with a different coloured tie for each specific day of the week and, on weekends, he favoured a cable-knit sweater and a pair of straight cut corduroy trousers. It was a timeless look for a reason, after all.</p><p>By seven fifty-nine each morning, Monday to Friday, he was stepping into his fireplace, so that by eight o’ clock, on the dot, he had arrived at the Ministry. And his working day then continued in a similar, structured manner. Thankfully, he had a rather predictable work schedule and a very patient secretary.</p><p>The reason that any of this was even noteworthy – the grapefruit, the ties, the impressively scheduled mid-morning bathroom break – was that, when this finely tuned routine was disturbed in any way, it had a nasty habit of sending Percy into something of a fluster.</p><p>Rose was well aware of some of her uncle’s slightly more neurotic tendencies, which is why she chose to orchestrate a surprise attack, cheerfully barging into his office – despite the protestations of his loyal and fastidious personal secretary – and disrupting his allocated half hour lunch break. Percy practically froze in his chair, his tuna sandwich with the crusts surgically removed halfway to his open mouth, as his niece burst through the door in a whirlwind of red curls, hugs and unsolicited cups of coffee.</p><p>In fact, he could do nothing but blink, startled, as Rose buzzed around his office, asking after Audrey and the girls, complimenting his extensive collection of encyclopaedias and accidentally nudging one of the picture frames askew in a way that made Percy’s eyebrows knit together.</p><p>“We’re sorry to drop in, unannounced,” she chatted, breezily, settling herself in one of the chairs in front of his desk and sliding one of the cardboard cups she was carrying towards him.</p><p>“Unannounced?” Percy repeated, as if he didn’t quite understand the meaning of the word.</p><p>“You remember Scorpius, my fiancé?” Rose pressed on, glancing over her shoulder to where Malfoy was lurking, a little more hesitantly, in the open doorway, and nursing a cardboard cup of his own. “I think the two of you met the other week at the Burrow?”</p><p>“Er, yes. Yes, of course,” Percy roused himself, sliding his glasses up his nose and extending a courteous hand to his soon-to-be nephew-in-law. “Nice to see you again, Scorpius. How did you get on with that proposal for the new exchange rate regulations we discussed?”</p><p>“Quite well, sir, thank you,” Scorpius nodded, brightly, and stepped towards the desk to shake his hand. “There was great interest in your suggestion of a central monitoring body to ensure limited discrepancies across Europe. I believe Minister Shacklebolt mentioned he may send you an owl directly, to discuss the idea further.”</p><p>“Excellent… excellent.”</p><p>Percy really had no choice but to gesture for him to take the remaining seat beside the one that Rose had settled herself into already. Hesitantly, he allowed himself a sip of whatever Rose had brought for him in the dubiously thermo-regulated corrugated cup. Evidently pleased to find there wasn’t a trace of sugar or sweetener, he nodded approvingly.</p><p>Glancing up, he found Rose beaming at him in such a way that he was rather obliged to forgive her for the wonky picture frame. “So, to what do I owe the… <em>unexpected</em> pleasure of your company, Rosie? I’m sure there are more exciting places to spend one’s lunch-break than my office?” Though, admittedly, Percy had never found one.</p><p>Rose shared a quick exchange of glances with Scorpius. They’d discussed their plan of attack at length for the remainder of their weekend, debating various tactics and deciding on how best to tease information out of Rose’s inherently private and often socially awkward uncle. Though easily flustered by disorder, he also had plenty of experience when it came to negotiating across a boardroom, hence the need for the element of surprise, and he wasn’t one to have the wool pulled over his eyes so easily.</p><p>For that reason, they’d eventually decided to trial the truth, for a change. Well, as close to the truth as they dared, at least, without risking exposure of their entire façade.</p><p>Of course, that didn’t mean it was going to be easy, to simply come out and ask her uncle about the blood oath. Rose had no idea how he might react. Although Scorpius had always been fairly liberal in his discussion of the oath and his generally negative views on marriage pacts as a basic concept, her brief discussion with Jasper Nott in the Malfoy gardens had given Rose the impression that most wizards found the subject rather taboo. And that meant that this conversation needed to be handled… sensitively.</p><p>Rose had, therefore, volunteered to take the lead for obvious reasons. Scorpius’ contribution to proceedings were the two drops of a potion currently swirling around Percy’s coffee cup. <em>Not</em> – Malfoy had assured her – anything close to Veritaserum, which was, of course, highly illegal, but a variant of a Calming Draught – practically herbal, he’d said – to encourage her uncle to relax his reservations and, hopefully, open up to them. </p><p>Rose fixed Percy with a tight smile and gestured for him to drink up. “Actually, Uncle Percy, we… we wanted to ask you about something that’s a little… delicate.”</p><p>Percy’s eyebrows made a valiant attempt to close the gap on his receding hairline. “Oh?” he fidgeted with the corner of his sandwich wrappings. “I… I can’t imagine how I might be of assistance with something like that. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather discuss whatever it is with your father? Or… or maybe your Uncle George? He’s actually rather good with personal matters, once he’s managed to stop laughing at your expense.”</p><p>“Er, no,” she persevered. “I’m afraid you’re the only one that we think might be able to help us. You see… Scorpius and I, well, we’re starting to feel rather pressured to move forward with the wedding before Christmas.”</p><p>“Pressured?” Percy’s stiffened in his seat, glancing between his niece and the man beside her, who was eyeing him with a rather tense jaw line.</p><p>“Yes, it all feels rather rushed, from our perspective, and that’s because of… certain obligations, shall we say, that Scorpius is under, relating to his family, and… and historical expectations, given his position as the sole Malfoy heir.” </p><p>“Goodness,” Percy tugged on his shirt collar. “That all sounds… very intimate.”</p><p>Rose’s brow furrowed. “Er, I suppose so, in a way. Well, the thing is, we recently discovered that <em>you </em>might have dealt with… similar pressures, and we were hoping to ask your advice on what we might be able to do to, say, resist them a little while longer?”</p><p>Percy looked as though he might be on the verge of running out of oxygen. His face had gone curiously slack and his gaze darted between the couple in front of him as if he couldn’t entirely believe they were actually sitting there, asking him these questions.</p><p>“M-Merlin’s beard, Rosie,” he spluttered, eventually. “I’m not entirely sure where you’re getting your information, but I… I suppose it’s to be admired that you feel this way. Too many young people rush into things these days and I… I do believe something is lost in doing so.”</p><p>Percy coughed into his hand and straightened the collection of quills to his left.</p><p>“I f-fully support your decision,” he continued, shakily. “And, although I am obviously not the sole heir to the Weasley family, I do understand the pressures from older generations to start a family and secure the blood-line.”</p><p>Rose and Scorpius exchanged slightly confused glances.</p><p>“Er, Uncle Percy, I’m not sure —”</p><p>“If you wish to wait until after marriage to consummate the relationship, that is perfectly acceptable and entirely between the two of you. Anyone putting pressure on either of you to sire the next heir of Malfoy ought to respect that, however, I really don’t see how on Earth I might be able to assist you in this matter?”</p><p>Percy glanced between them both again – doing his utmost to quell the obvious discomfort within and act the supportive uncle. Rose and Scorpius stared back with expressions of equal horror.</p><p>“No!” Rose cried. “That’s not…” she shook her head, violently. “<em>Merlin</em>, that’s definitely <em>not </em>what I’m talking about.”</p><p>Percy looked equal parts relieved and mortified. “It’s not?”</p><p>“No!” she cried again, privately wondering if it would be less painful to simply set herself on fire.</p><p>Rose could only empathise with the rapidly expanding blush her uncle was now sporting. She imagined it rather mirrored her own. Scorpius, by contrast, had gone remarkably pale, even for him. Rose turned to him, hoping for some sort of assistance, finding him about as much use as a jellyfish and equally limp. She gave him a rather rousing kick to the shins.</p><p>“Er, Mr Weasley…” Scorpius jolted upright in his chair. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck in the way he did whenever he felt uncomfortable in a situation. Rose felt her hand wandering over to his free one, entangling their fingers with a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>“Mr Weasley,” Scorpius said again, “the obligation that Rose is referring to… is that it will be my twenty-eighth birthday in December.”  </p><p>Percy merely blinked at him.</p><p>“And, as I believe you are aware, turning twenty-eight has a special significance for those of us from… certain families.” Scorpius stared back at him, meaningfully.</p><p>Percy fidgeted, uncomfortably, but said nothing.</p><p>“If we are not married before then,” Scorpius pressed on, “we fear the potential consequences. However, in an ideal world, we’d prefer not to rush our engagement. I know, for instance, that Rose has her heart set on a Spring wedding.”</p><p>Rose had to press her lips together to avoid an anxious laugh erupting. Instead, she nodded, “I’m a big fan of tulips.”</p><p>Percy glanced between them both. “I’m not entirely sure I understand?” He took another, nervous sip of his imbued coffee.</p><p>Scorpius looked like he was on the verge of climbing over the desk and strangling the information out of him, and so Rose distracted him with a firm squeeze of the hand and leant forward. “Uncle Percy,” she asked, gently, “how did you meet Aunt Audrey?”</p><p>He looked across at her, startled. Though his face remained blank, Rose spotted the tell-tale signs of a classic Weasley blush peeking out from beneath his collar. “I… I’m not quite sure how that’s relevant, but er, we… we knew each other from work.”</p><p>Rose glanced quickly at Scorpius, who was frowning intently at her uncle, and then back at Percy. “You knew each other from work?” she repeated.</p><p>“Yes,” he nodded, sharply. “I was junior assistant to the Minister at the time, and she worked in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, as I recall. We occasionally saw each other at meetings, or in the hallways, that sort of thing.”</p><p>“And you fell in love with her in the hallway, did you?” Scorpius ground out, earning him a reprimanding scowl from Rose. He grimaced in frustration but bit his tongue.</p><p>“What we’re getting at, Uncle Percy,” Rose spoke, carefully, “and the reason we’re <em>really </em>here, is that… we know what happens to members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families when they turn twenty-eight. We know about the marriage pact.” She took a deep breath. “And… we think that <em>you </em>may have possibly had some experience with that.”</p><p>Percy stared. Rose and Scorpius stared back. Percy took another sip of his coffee and Rose eyed the laced cup and pressed her lips together, guiltily.</p><p>“I…” Percy frowned and glanced down at his desk. “I see.”</p><p>There was a long and silent pause.</p><p>Rose could practically feel Scorpius vibrating in his chair, next to her. His fingers were turning white at the knuckles where they gripped her hand and – if Percy didn’t start talking – she was slightly concerned that they would both lose all circulation below the wrist rather soon.   </p><p>“You know,” Percy muttered, suddenly, regaining Rose’s attention, “no one’s ever asked me about this before.” She was rather taken aback by the strange little smile that quirked his mouth up in one corner. “Not even my own parents… who must have been surprised when I suddenly came home sporting a new wife.”</p><p>Rose’s eyes grew wide. “So, it is true? Your marriage to Aunt Audrey was because of the blood oath?”</p><p>“…Yes,” Percy nodded in confirmation. “Although, I wasn’t aware it was a blood oath. I’ve only ever seen it referred to as The Pledge.”</p><p>Rose turned to Scorpius in excitement, and was surprised to find him studying Percy with a grave expression. “Can I ask…” Scorpius’ voice came out gruffly, “…how it happened?”</p><p>Percy sat back in his chair with a sigh, slipping his glasses off and cleaning them on his robes. “To this day, I’m not entirely sure.” He pushed them back onto his nose and smiled at the two of them, apologetically. “I knew who she was from work, as I said, although I had no idea that she was actually a Selwyn. She went by her mother’s maiden name, you see, following a difference in opinion with her father. He was a fairly public supporter of Voldemort during the war and she’d been estranged from her family for some time. Actually, I’d always thought she was rather attractive…” Percy continued, a little dreamily. “She always seemed very capable and had the loveliest pair of legs. She used to wear these skirts, you see…”</p><p>Rose decided he’d probably had enough of their specially brewed coffee, and quietly sent all three of their cups levitating into the nearest rubbish bin. Percy didn’t even seem to notice.   </p><p>Scorpius cleared his throat. “So, you knew who she was, but you weren’t already in a relationship with her?”</p><p>“No, not at all,” Percy shook his head with a smile. “Quite honestly, I was really more of a career man, myself. Quite content with my lot, with no particular intention to ever marry.”</p><p>“But that changed? On your birthday?”</p><p>Rose eyed Scorpius carefully, as he inched closer to the desk, desperate for some useful information. She supposed this was the first opportunity he’d had to learn more about the fate that currently awaited him. She felt a fresh wave of empathy for his plight and – for possibly the first time – was actually glad she’d agreed to help him, that he wasn’t in this alone.</p><p>“Yes, my birthday…” Percy mused. “It was the oddest thing. I remember falling asleep the night before and… well, it sounds like something out of those dreadful romance novels that Lucy reads, but I dreamt of her – Audrey, I mean – in the most vivid terms. When I woke up, my head was simply filled with her, and I knew I was in love, that she and I were meant to be together.”</p><p>“What… what did you do?” Rose asked, eyes wide.</p><p>“I sought her out immediately,” Percy shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The way I felt about her… I simply had no choice. It was as if some baser part of me had taken over, I acted on pure instinct. I found her here, at work, and as soon as she saw me, I knew… she was experiencing the same thing. There was no discussion; there wasn’t any need for it. It felt as if we’d both been given this glimpse at our own destiny, we’d both seen that we belonged together. We were married that afternoon by a member of the Wizengamot down in the courtrooms. I didn’t even know they did that sort of thing, truth be told.”</p><p>Rose sagged back into her chair in relative astonishment.</p><p>It was quite a story. Romantic, even, like Percy had said, but all she could think about was the sheer amount of magical power that would be needed to exert such a swift and forceful influence over someone. Scorpius, she could tell, was considering along the same lines. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tense, and he was staring at Percy as if he were a particularly baffling puzzle in their morning newspaper.</p><p>“And, none of that concerned you?” he asked her uncle, sharply. “That you felt all of this for someone out of the blue? That you went from thinking someone had nice legs to marrying them in less than twenty-four hours?”</p><p>Percy simply frowned at him. “You have to understand, there was nothing to question. In fact, everything became incredibly simple – I loved Audrey with all of my soul, and she felt exactly the same way.”</p><p>“And now?” Rose interrupted, before Scorpius had the chance to tell him what an absolute load of nonsense he thought that was.</p><p>“Well,” Percy considered, “Audrey is still the love of my life and we have two beautiful daughters together. What more is there to say?”</p><p>Rose tilted her head, thoughtfully. “I mean, have you ever questioned where those feelings came from?”</p><p>“Of course!” Percy huffed out a small laugh. Scorpius arched an eyebrow. “I’m not saying I was reduced to a blind and unthinking individual, here. After the initial whirlwind, both Audrey and I did our own research, which is when we discovered The Pledge. As she was estranged from her family, and mine had been excluded from pureblood circles for generations, it wasn’t something that either of us had previously been aware of. But even knowing that there were external forces at play, that didn’t change my feelings towards her.”</p><p>“How could it not?” Scorpius barked, incredulously. Rose squeezed his hand so tightly, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d snapped it right off.</p><p>Percy levelled him with a rather serious stare, then. “Young man, I understand your fear of the unknown. But this is centuries old magic; it knows what it’s doing. Audrey and I are incredibly well matched. We share the same values, the same interests. Our personalities are compatible in ways I had never dared to hope for in a partner.” He smiled in the way that adults often do at the naivety of children. “Audrey was and <em>is</em> my soulmate, and I will forever be grateful to The Pledge for bringing us together.”</p><p>Scorpius continued to stare at Percy as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing.</p><p>“Of course,” Percy added, with a rather carefree shrug. “None of this will apply in your case.”</p><p>“It won’t?” Rose and Scorpius asked, practically in unison.</p><p>“No…” Percy smiled, good-naturedly. “You’ve already met your soul mate, even without the aid of magic, haven’t you?”</p><p>It took them both a moment to realise he was referring to Rose. “Right,” Scorpius muttered. “Of course.”</p><p>“And, though I appreciate your concerns over the expedited wedding – I, too, am very fond of tulips – I’m afraid I have no idea how one might go about breaking The Pledge or resisting its influence. But I would certainly advise against trifling with it. Whether its essence is founded in blood or bonding magic, or a combination of both, it is, without doubt, the most <em>powerful</em> magic I have ever felt the effects of.”</p><p>Rose heard Scorpius’ nervous gulp from the seat beside her. She chanced another glance at him – he had gone very still and was hanging on Percy’s every word.</p><p>“It quite literally altered the course of my life… for the better, I might add,” Percy smiled, wistfully. “But, given that Rosie, here, is not connected to the Sacred Twenty-Eight since her parents’ marriage, I can’t say what it would mean for your engagement, if you were still unmarried on your twenty-eighth birthday, Mr Malfoy.”</p><p>Scorpius turned then, locking eyes with Rose, allowing her to see the blossoming panic there. Of course, unbeknownst to Percy, there was no engagement, nothing to stand in the way of his rapidly approaching twenty-eighth birthday and all of the magical, marital chaos that would undoubtedly ensue.</p><p>Rose – sensing Scorpius’ growing distress – turned to Percy and summoned the most convincing smile she could muster. “Thank you, Uncle Percy… you’ve been an immense help and… given us an awful lot to think about. Again, we’re sorry to have disturbed your lunch —”</p><p>“Oh, not at all,” he waved, airily. “It’s been strangely liberating, to break with routine. I’m actually thinking I might give the rest of the office the afternoon off, to go and enjoy the sunshine.”</p><p>Rose eyed the remains of the spiked coffee cup in the rubbish bin and smiled, nervously. “What a… wonderful idea. If only my boss was so generous.”</p><p>She briefly thought of Niall, a repressed shudder rolling through her, before hauling Malfoy out of the chair – where he had gone rather stiff and silent – practically dragging him out of the office and past the frowns of Percy’s secretary, who evidently didn’t know what a surprise treat she was in for.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They ended up in the fifth-floor ladies’ bathroom again.</p><p>Evidently, Rose hadn’t known where else to go for the relative privacy they both needed to digest all this new information and, since Scorpius had essentially been rendered mute and useless, had eventually bundled him into the lift and back to their familiar hide-out, casting the usual Repelling Charms on the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.</p><p>Scorpius, for his part, would have likely resented the mute and useless accusation but was, admittedly, being very quiet and very unhelpful. He propped himself on a closed toilet seat, head in his hands, as he reeled from the discovery that there was another living soul on this planet who had experienced the blood oath, and that this individual was actually <em>grateful </em>for it.  </p><p>In fact, to use Percy’s own words, considered it the best thing to have ever happened to him.</p><p>Rose was pacing – her heels making rhythmic clicks against the tiled floor, stopping to sigh, anxiously, every third or fourth lap of the bathroom and only accelerating Scorpius’ nosedive into madness.</p><p>“Will you stand still, for Merlin’s sake, woman?” he eventually snapped at her, lifting his head to glare at her, hair askew and cheeks hollow.</p><p>Rose simply stared back at him with worry. “Is everything… I mean… how do you feel?” Her teeth raked over her bottom lip.</p><p>Scorpius sighed and flopped back against the cool, tiled wall to stare up at the ceiling. “I honestly don’t know… Confused, cross, rather incredulous?”</p><p>Rose arched an eyebrow and hugged her chest. “All rather understandable, given the last half hour.”</p><p>“I just don’t understand how he could be so accepting of it?” he bit out, angrily. “As if it’s perfectly normal to wake up one morning and be in all consuming love with someone you’ve barely had more than a conversation with?!”</p><p>Rose grimaced, slightly. “I don’t think Uncle Percy was trying to say it was <em>normal</em>, exactly…”</p><p>“No, he just thought it was bloody brilliant, though, didn’t he?” Scorpius scoffed.</p><p>Rose said nothing. There was nothing really to say.</p><p>She set off pacing again, her hands wringing the edges of her cardigan, expression deep in thought. Scorpius watched her for a moment, trying to distract himself from his own terrifying imaginings of his future as a mind-controlled, doting husband, finding his eyes drawn to the quick movement of her feet. His eyes trailed up over her ankles. She actually had very shapely legs, he noted.</p><p>As, apparently, did Audrey Weasley, née Selwyn.</p><p>Scorpius groaned and ground the heel of his palms into his eye sockets. “This was a terrible idea. We should never have spoken to your uncle about this —”</p><p>“Nonsense!” Rose whirled to face him with a frown already in place. “We’ve learnt so much!”</p><p>“Such as?” Scorpius questioned, dryly.</p><p>“Well…” she frowned, thoughtfully, “the fact that Uncle Percy referred to it as The Pledge could be important. In fact, I’m sure I read something about a pledge in one of your textbooks, but I ignored it as I didn’t realise it might be talking about the same thing as the blood oath. And his experience… I mean, the fact that he dreamt about Audrey that night… <em>that’s </em>got to be significant. Not many types of magic take effect whilst sleeping, so that could narrow the possibilities down considerably. And the fact that he knew what he was doing, that he was consciously aware that he was choosing to get married…” She gesticulated, wildly. “We thought the oath took away your free will, but that can’t be true —”</p><p>“Why can’t it?” Scorpius stopped her in her tracks with a bark. “Just because he can remember every painstaking moment of his twenty-eighth birthday doesn’t mean he was acting of his own free will, or that he had any control over the situation at all!”</p><p>He stood, angrily, from his toilet seat and now it was his turn to pace the bathroom.</p><p>“You heard the man! He quite literally said he had no choice! He woke up one morning with overwhelming feelings inserted into his very soul and felt compelled to marry a woman he barely knew. How does any of that sound like someone who had an ounce of free will?”</p><p>Rose winced but pressed her lips together, silently. Scorpius dragged a hand through his hair, feeling a clammy sweat start to break out across his forehead.</p><p>“I could wake up on December the eighth and find myself madly in love with someone I’ve never even met. Or worse… someone I <em>have</em> met and can’t stand. What if it’s Nadine Avery? She’s absolutely intolerable! Or… or Clarice Bullstrode, who considers growing her own toenails a legitimate hobby!”</p><p>Rose shrugged, rather unhelpfully. “You never know, it could be Jasper Nott. There’s no mention of the oath taking sexual preference into account.”</p><p>Scorpius made an odd sort of gurgling sound – half laugh, half lament. “Honestly, I think he’d be the lesser of all those evils.”</p><p>He leant against the nearest sink, the porcelain cool against his burning skin, as he tried to steady his breathing and tamp down his escalating panic. He felt a little dizzy and his pulse skipped at his neck. His mouth felt inordinately dry, his tongue sticking as he tried to swallow back the sudden tang of bile in his throat.</p><p>He’d never actually had a panic attack before, so he had no idea if this was what having one felt like. But he certainly felt panicked and rather under attack, and so he assumed it was a fairly safe bet.</p><p>Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, he felt a pair of small but firm arms wrap around his midriff from behind. He glanced down, startled, to find Rose’s hands gripping the front of his shirt and, a brief second later, felt the warmth of her press into his back, her cheek against his spine.</p><p><em>Merlin</em>, the girl really was a hugger.</p><p>The strange thing was, it did actually make him feel a little better.</p><p>He concentrated on the warmth of her, and felt his heartbeat start to regulate and slow. He blinked, and his vision didn’t seem so fuzzy anymore as he stared down at her encircling arms, and he tried to match his breathing to hers, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest against his back, until his brain didn’t feel quite so starved of oxygen.</p><p>Without a word, he turned in her arms, his own wrapping around her shoulders, and squeezed her to him, tightly. He still felt horrifyingly helpless – and like he might throw himself off a very tall building later, or spend an hour casting <em>Confringo </em>on unsuspecting toilet stalls – but it helped. <em>She </em>helped.</p><p>“We’re going to get you out of this,” Rose muttered, against his neck. “I don’t know how, exactly, but I promise I won’t stop trying until we do. Whatever it takes.”</p><p>Scorpius pulled back a little, just to look at her. She looked almost as stricken as he felt, her wide, searching eyes almost tauntingly blue. Something in his gut fluttered in a way not wholly unpleasant, but very uneasily.</p><p>He tugged her back against his chest so he wouldn’t have to think about what that might be, and breathed in the reassuringly familiar lavender scented shampoo.</p><p>“Your optimism is greatly misplaced but wholly appreciated, Weasley,” he muttered into her curls. He felt her small huff of laughter against his skin and his toes curled in his boots. “Also, we’re going to need Firewhiskey, and lots of it.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Rose and Astoria enjoy some retail therapy, Scorpius rolls up his sleeves, and Evaline Rosier continues to make the rest of us look like uncultured trolls. </p><p>Also, I do promise that not every chapter will end with a hug... although this one was my favourite so far. Rose is a hugger, there's very little I can do about it at this point.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Shopping & Surprises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Thanks to Arnel63 for her beautiful beta handiwork and thanks for all the love and comments, they do so spur on the creative juices!</p>
<p>Now, I think it's time we checked in with everyone's favourite hugger...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose stared at the tiny fork. The tiny fork stared back at Rose.</p>
<p>Rose tried to imagine what one might need such a tiny fork for – perhaps if someone wasn’t particularly hungry, or eating a meal consisting entirely of individual olives. Either way, she couldn’t imagine herself ever having use for one, never mind sixteen, as the enthusiastic shop assistant and Astoria had eventually agreed upon.</p>
<p>Sixteen tiny forks, along with sixteen various other bits of exceedingly shiny cutlery, a number of expensive looking rugs, and a bar-cart that Rose estimated would take up over half of the floor space in her living room, had all gone down on a list. A list that Rose didn’t really understand the premise of, but had been assured, by her fake future mother-in-law, was quite compulsory to compile and publish in the lead up to one’s wedding. Apparently, people would then buy her (or, rather, Scorpius and her) all of these bizarrely over-priced and entirely unnecessary things, and she would have to find room for them all in her flat.</p>
<p>The whole experience was mind-boggling, and was giving her a rather persistent headache.</p>
<p>“Oh, now <em>that </em>is just exquisite!” Astoria appeared by her side, nodding encouragingly at the quilted chaise-lounge that Rose had been caught eyeing – she’d actually been wondering if it would be frowned upon to simply lie down and take a nap – and gesturing for the shop assistant to take note. “We’ll add that, too. And the matching suite.” Astoria bent her head to Rose, conspiratorially. “It’s probably asking a little much, but after we were forced to buy that wretched Belby boy an antique Steinway for his wedding, I think we’re owed it.”</p>
<p>Rose smiled, forcedly, and tried to console herself with the fact that there wasn’t actually going to be a wedding, and therefore she would never actually have to find room in her kitchen cupboards for the sterling silver tea set, or rig up the chandelier that she was quite certain would pull her entire roof down with the weight of it. This was simply an exercise in her patience and her acting talent, keeping Astoria happy whilst continuing on with their charade. Admittedly, she hadn’t realised that her own sacrificial death on the altar of capitalism would be part of their ongoing ruse, but Scorpius had convinced her there was no point trying to weasel out of it, when Astoria’s invitation had arrived by owl the previous week.</p>
<p>She had hoped, however, that she might at least get brunch out of it, when Astoria had instructed her to meet at <em>Maison Des Interieurs, </em>two streets across from Diagon Alley, at eight AM sharp. Apparently, the shop was opening especially for them – a favour, Rose supposed, that was bestowed when one was hosting the much-anticipated wedding of the season – and yet, there wasn’t so much as a cup of coffee in sight and Rose was flagging.</p>
<p>“You know,” Astoria mused, linking her arm with Rose’s and leading her into yet another room – this one filled with soft furnishings, “I’ve been meaning to ask, how is Scorpius?”</p>
<p>Rose blinked, tearing her eyes away from a pair of silk curtains. “Oh, er… he’s fine. Why do you ask?”</p>
<p>Astoria studied her, shrewdly. “Only because I haven’t heard from him in over a fortnight. I do understand that you young people are busy, and the lead up to one’s wedding is a particularly exciting time, I should know…” she smiled to herself, wistfully. “But I normally receive a Floo call, or an owl, at least, once a week. I’m afraid I’ve rather insisted upon it, ever since he went away to school.”  </p>
<p>Rose had a sudden image of a young Scorpius in his Slytherin robes, hiding his weekly correspondence with his mother from his dormmates, and found herself smiling.</p>
<p>“He’s fine,” Rose said again, trying to muster a convincing tone. “Just busy, as you said. But I will remind him that you’re waiting for his owl.”</p>
<p>Astoria smiled and nodded and floated off to discuss china patterns with the shop assistant, leaving Rose to fester with her own concerns.</p>
<p>In truth, Scorpius was definitely <em>not </em>fine.</p>
<p>It had been two weeks since their audience with Uncle Percy, where they’d learnt more about the blood oath and its effects, and Rose had spent the last fourteen days watching Scorpius descend into something close to a depressive episode. He was clearly disturbed by what they had learnt, and whilst Rose had thrown herself back into their research – re-reading all of their books for mentions of a ‘Pledge’, as Percy had termed it – Scorpius was struggling to separate himself from his anxieties long enough to so much as pick up a quill. He was restless, short-tempered and finding it hard to sleep (Rose had been woken several times in the last week to the sound of footsteps, pacing, out in the hallway).</p>
<p>She’d taken to distracting him as best she could, finding that her continued work on the viaduct restoration often did the trick. She’d push her notes under his nose in the evenings, or ask him a question about the necessary charm work that she already knew the answer to, just to give him something to focus his mind and his frustrations on, other than his own uncertain future.</p>
<p>That seemed to work, for a time, as did large quantities of Firewhiskey. But, if they didn’t have something of a breakthrough soon, Rose was worried that her partner in crime might spiral further than she could pull him back from.  </p>
<p>“Rose, darling, did you hear me?”</p>
<p>Rose jerked her head up to find Astoria waiting on her, patiently.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she muttered, “I was… thinking about Scorpius.” Not a lie, after all.</p>
<p>Astoria beamed, a hand fluttering to her chest as her gaze grew soft. “Of course you were, as I said, such a special and exciting time for you both. You know, I remember the weeks leading up to my own wedding… my parents were still livid with me for accepting Draco’s proposal…” Astoria clocked Rose’s expression of surprise and chuckled. “Oh, yes. We were quite the scandal, at the time. Anyway, Daphne used to grow quite impatient with me, said I was no use to anything or anyone, with my head in the clouds. Simply walking around the house became something of a dangerous sport, the sheer number of walls I used to walk into on a daily basis.”</p>
<p>Astoria’s smile was rather infectious, Rose found. It reminded her of Scorpius’, on the rare occasion she would catch him in an unguarded grin, before he’d remember himself and scowl or roll his eyes at her.</p>
<p>“Actually,” Astoria continued, once again threading her arm with Rose’s, “I think we’re about done, here. I did have somewhere else I wanted to take you, if I’ve not already demanded too much of your morning?”</p>
<p>Rose had a vision of hot coffee and croissants and felt herself nod, eagerly.  </p>
<p>“Excellent,” Astoria beamed. “Now, what undergarments are you wearing?”</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The last time Rose had stood on the circular, raised platform in <em>Madame Malkin's</em> <em>Robes for All Occasions, </em>she’d been almost eleven years old, having her school robes fitted and trying not to fidget too much, in case the aged shop owner should accidentally stick a pin in her leg.</p>
<p>Now, as she stared at herself in the large, gilded mirror, she felt equally frozen in place, although with a very different sense of foreboding. Because, this time, rather than her black Hogwarts uniform, her reflection stared back at her wearing a very, <em>very</em> ornate, white gown.</p>
<p>A family heirloom, Astoria had explained to Rose’s practically deaf and pulsing ears, a wedding dress worn by every Malfoy bride for generations.</p>
<p>Rose felt as though she were having some sort of out-of-body experience. She stared at her reflection as if it were someone else entirely. If she needed a reminder of just how complicated and bizarre her life had become recently, then this was surely it; standing here, on a Saturday morning, being fitted for a <em>wedding dress</em> for her fake wedding to Scorpius Malfoy, with her equally fake but entirely invested mother-in-law buzzing around her ankles. All she needed now, was for Niall Finnigan to walk past and spy her through the window and her weekend would surely be complete.</p>
<p>Rose suddenly found she felt rather little light-headed… whether at the situation as a whole, or because the rigid boning of the corset was severely restricting her ribcage, she wasn’t entirely sure.</p>
<p>“I do hope you don’t mind me springing this upon you,” Astoria muttered, distractedly, as she circled Rose on her plinth and frowned at her from various angles. “Only, Scorpius mentioned that your mother was away until Christmas, and I hated the thought of you having to come here on your own.”</p>
<p>Rose simply shook her head. She was afraid that, if she opened her mouth, she may vomit all down the front of the blasted thing.</p>
<p>Putting aside her instinctual desire to scream and flee for one moment, Rose could admit that the dress, itself, was quite beautiful. A work of art, in some regards; an antique she would have been delighted to discover and catalogue, hidden in the Archives or on display in a costume exhibit.</p>
<p>Physically <em>on</em> her, however, it looked nothing short of hideous.</p>
<p>The neckline was so high it nearly tickled her ears. The stark, brilliant white of the fabric – so pristine, that Rose could only assume it had remained that way over the years thanks to an inordinate number of charms – did absolutely nothing for her cream complexion. There were so many intricate buttons that it had taken them over forty-five minutes to actually get the wretched thing on, and she was drowning in more lace than Madame Puddifoot’s tea shop on Valentine’s Day.</p>
<p>Astoria and Madame Malkins’ successor – who Rose supposed must be her daughter, given the uncanny resemblance – stood behind her, appraising her silhouette, thoughtfully, and making Rose feel even more self-conscious. Unfortunately, the dress was also exceptionally unflattering for her figure. Evidently, all previous Malfoy brides must have been as stiff and slim as a rake, Rose observed, whilst she, apparently, curved in all the wrong places.</p>
<p>No amount of Re-sizing or Re-fitting Charms could possibly rectify such an atrocity.</p>
<p>Astoria sidled closer, till she was far enough away from the prying ears of Madame Malkin the Second. “So…what do you think?” She glanced from her reflection, up to Rose’s face.</p>
<p>Rose simply blinked, wide-eyed. There was absolutely no way she could tell Astoria – who, herself, must have once worn this very dress – that she hated it more than she had ever hated another item of clothing in her entire life.</p>
<p>“Oh…” she squeaked, her voice unnaturally high. “It’s, er, lovely.”</p>
<p>Astoria stared at her for a moment, then let out a very uncharacteristic snort of amusement. “My goodness, Rose, darling. You’ll have to get a lot better at lying if you want to survive in this family.”</p>
<p>Rose could only stare at her, open-mouthed, as a crimson blush warmed her cheeks.</p>
<p>Astoria continued to chuckle, one well-manicured hand settling over her mouth to disguise her grin. “Merlin, I’d forgotten just how much I hated the wretched thing! I mean, it’s either lace <em>or</em> in-sewn pearls, pick one, not both. Not to mention, Draco and I married in the August – I almost died of heat-stroke under so much tulle.”</p>
<p>Astoria’s laughter was almost as infectious as her smile. Rose would have joined in, except she was afraid she might end up with a corset bone in the lung, so simply allowed herself a rather relieved grin of her own.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Astoria continued, between chuckles, “when I suggested to Narcissa – rest her soul – that we might consider dropping the neckline, she told me in no uncertain terms that ‘a Malfoy bride does not display her decolletage for all and sundry to see.’ As if I was suggesting we give the Minister a good look down my cleavage.” She rolled her sea-green eyes with such ferocity, that Rose was left to wonder exactly which parent Scorpius had learnt that particular skill from, after all.</p>
<p>“Now then,” Astoria smiled up at her, fondly, letting her laughter out in one great sigh and resuming her default setting of polite decorum. “Let’s get that bloody thing off you – pardon my French, darling – and find you a proper dress. <em>This </em>belongs in a museum,” she plucked at one of Rose’s frilly sleeves with disdain, “and I’m determined we’ll find a dress almost as beautiful as you.”</p>
<p>Rose’s sudden wave of affection for Astoria Malfoy was fairly short-lived however, as, with a nod to the shop owner, a rack containing at least a dozen or so more dresses appeared from behind a curtain. There was silk and lace and shades of cream as far as the eye could see.</p>
<p>It became inordinately clear to Rose that she wouldn’t be escaping this waking nightmare any time soon. The persistent lack of caffeine was only adding insult to injury at this point.</p>
<p>She turned, forlornly, trying to hide her disappointment from Astoria, and started when she found a pair of dark brown eyes boring into her reflection. A young woman was standing on the pavement directly outside the shop, watching Rose’s ordeal through the large, display window and apparently finding the whole scene particularly amusing. The two women’s gazes locked, and Rose spotted the charming quirk of a pair of perfect bow lips, the demure blush of her cheeks, and realised she recognised her.</p>
<p>“Evaline, darling!” Astoria exclaimed, when, a moment later, the bell above the shop door tinkled and the very same woman stepped inside. “What a delightful surprise! I didn’t realise you were returning from France so soon?”</p>
<p>Rose turned on her plinth – a train of tulle snapping at her heels – to watch the delicate exchange of air kisses.</p>
<p>Evaline smiled – a brilliant, enchanting sort of smile that Rose was sure left unmarried men and their parents befuddled in her wake – and tucked a lock of dark, chestnut hair behind one ear. “Actually, I’m here on business. The Louvre is looking to acquire a few pieces from the National Gallery and I’m acting as liaison. What a pleasure it is to run into you, Mrs Malfoy.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s <em>Astoria</em>, please,” the older woman, chided. “I believe we dispensed with formalities the day I watched you push Scorpius into the ornamental pond.”</p>
<p>Evaline laughed, rather musically, and turned her sunbeam smile on Rose. “In my defence, I was only seven.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Astoria nodded, “and Scorpius was being quite the nuisance, trying to flick frogspawn in your hair, as I recall.”</p>
<p>“Good to know some things never change, then.” Rose heard her own voice before she was even cognisant that she was speaking. Both Evaline and Astoria turned and stared at her for a moment, their eyes wide, and Rose was about to apologise profusely for her misstep, when they both erupted into peals of ladylike laughter.</p>
<p>“At least she knows what she’s signing up for,” Astoria chuckled, eyes alighting. “Oh, how rude of me. I don’t suppose the two of you have been formally introduced, have you? Rose, this is Miss Rosier, a dear friend of the family. And Evaline, this is Miss Weasley, whom I’m sure you know is set to marry Scorpius in a few short months’ time.”</p>
<p>Evaline glanced her way again, taking in the full picture, her eyes lingering on the heirloom wedding dress. Rose shuffled awkwardly, the itch of the heavy lace growing increasingly uncomfortable by the second. </p>
<p>“A pleasure to finally meet you, Rose,” she broke into another dazzling smile. “Actually, I must admit, I spied you through the window and came in specifically hoping I might be able to steal you away.” She turned to Astoria, then, and innocently raised her eyebrows. “You don’t mind, do you, Astoria? Only, I simply can’t believe I barely know the woman who is marrying one of my dearest friends. I was hoping Rose might agree to join me for some lunch? That is… if I’m not interrupting?”</p>
<p>The polite cough of Madame Malkin the Second reminded them all that Evaline was, of course, interrupting in the strongest sense of the word. But Astoria must have seen Rose’s eyes light up, hopefully, at the mention of lunch (and the not-quite-mentioned avoidance of any more wedding dresses), and she, herself, seemed quite taken with the idea of letting the two women get to know one another.  </p>
<p>“I think that’s a marvellous idea,” she beamed at them both. “Dress fitting can wait for another day. Besides, we’ve already made the most important decision, in so much as <em>that </em>–” she gestured dismissively at the Malfoy bridal dress, “– has no business being within half a mile of this wedding. Now, take it off at once, Rose, darling, before I feel inspired to <em>Incendio </em>it.” </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>As grateful as Rose was for the timely rescue from Madame Malkin’s and an immediate future shrouded in satin and lace, she was beginning to get the disconcerting feeling that she may have squirmed out of the sphinx’s claws, only to end up clamped right between its teeth…</p>
<p>Evaline Rosier was the sort of woman it was very hard to take your eyes off of. Rose realised she was staring – indeed, had been staring for well over ten minutes now – and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her gaze was repeatedly drawn to every graceful movement, the gentle toss of those silky, dark tresses, the bewitching smile directed at each of the wait-staff in the rather charming restaurant they now found themselves in.</p>
<p>Willing herself to look anywhere, at <em>anything</em> else for a moment lest she be caught gawping, Rose glanced around the sunlit courtyard. Evaline had brought them to a delightful garden terrace, on a side-street just off Diagon Alley, which served piping hot French-roasted coffee and, Rose had noted, boasted an impressively long wine list. She was suddenly rather glad she’d put on a nice dress that morning to meet Astoria, not that anyone was likely to look twice at Rose, she reasoned, when they found themselves in the gravitational pull of Evaline’s vicinity.</p>
<p>Taking in the various rose covered trellises and creeping ivy, Rose couldn’t understand how she’d never noticed this place was here before – the only café she knew of near Diagon Alley was the favourite childhood haunt, Florean Fortescue’s – and she was flummoxed.</p>
<p>Evaline must have spotted her frown, because she leant in to the table, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “It’s a members only club,” she grimaced, guiltily. “Hidden by a Disillusionment Charm. Awfully pretentious, I know, but they make the best coffee I’ve ever had this side of the Channel, so…” she shrugged, and sighed, reluctantly.    </p>
<p>As if on cue, the cafetiere that Evaline had ordered for them arrived at the table, and moments later, Rose was clutching at her cup of coffee in awe, wondering whether her measly Ministry salary might just stretch to their monthly membership fee.</p>
<p>“Thank you for… rescuing me,” Rose admitted, sheepishly, after a few more emboldening sips of French-roast, still gripping her cup as if someone might come and try to take it away.</p>
<p>Evaline chuckled, delicately. “I did think there was a touch of the distressed damsel about you, when I spotted you through the window. Astoria is, and always has been, wonderfully lovely to me, but like all well-intentioned mothers, can also be a tad over-bearing at times.” Her mouth twisted, wickedly. “Also, you looked as if you were about to turn blue from lack of oxygen in that horrid dress…”</p>
<p>“Oh, Merlin… please don’t remind me,” Rose groaned at the memory, which seemed to amuse Evaline.</p>
<p>“Be grateful that you have Astoria for a mother-in-law and not Narcissa. From what I remember of the old bat, she was quite the tyrant. I can’t imagine how Astoria dealt with her all those years.”</p>
<p>Rose blinked, surprised but intrigued by the insight. It suddenly struck her how very little she knew about Scorpius’ wider family or his upbringing. Honestly, she’d never even thought to ask. Now, she found, she was rather curious.</p>
<p>Evaline sipped at her coffee – taken with a dash of cream – and Rose took the opportunity to observe her, again. The woman was, honestly, just elegance personified. Everything from her long, graceful fingers, to the cut of her vintage Mac, down to the way her lips pursed around the rim of her cup. It was strange to see, in someone of such a similar age to herself, Rose realised. Probably because most of the people that she knew around her age were members of her own family and, whilst she loved them all dearly, elegance and grace were not words she’d ever dare to associate with any of them.</p>
<p>Evaline glanced up and caught her staring, and Rose was surprised by the warmth she found there, in her chocolate-coloured eyes. She had expected that someone with such statuesque posture would have a gaze to match, but Evaline’s simply exuded friendliness – as if she knew the funniest story in the world, and was just dying to share it with you.</p>
<p>Rose felt she could easily understand why Malfoy would want to be friends with someone like Evaline. The question remained, however, why someone like Evaline would want to be friends with Malfoy.</p>
<p>“So,” Rose cleared her throat and blushed at being caught spying, “you work for the Louvre?”</p>
<p>“Sometimes,” Evaline nodded, her eyes twinkling. “I freelance as an arts negotiator between lots of the major international Muggle galleries, although my home is in Paris. My favourite is actually the Uffizi gallery in Florence, although the Louvre probably has the most renowned collection.”</p>
<p>“I’ve always wanted to go…” Rose mused.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes?” Evaline smiled, encouragingly. “What is it you’d most like to see?”</p>
<p>Rose opened her mouth and then closed it again, rather foolishly. The fact that the Louvre was, in fact, even an art gallery, was about as far as her knowledge of art actually went. “Oh, you know… paintings, and such…”</p>
<p>Evaline arched an eyebrow but laughed good-naturedly. “Well, there’s certainly plenty of those. Don’t worry, I’m well aware that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for Muggle art. Scorpius always says that he can’t see the point in the portraits, if they’re not moving. That he’d find it equally enriching to stare at the back of his own eyelids.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes then, coaxing a grin out of Rose who could quite imagine Malfoy saying such a thing. Probably just to annoy Evaline, if he was up to his usual tricks.  </p>
<p>“Actually, I meant what I said, earlier, about wanting to get to know you,” Evaline smiled, hesitantly, across the table, as Rose’s eyebrows lifted. “This might seem strange, considering we’ve only just met, but I feel as if I owe you a world of gratitude.”</p>
<p>“Me?” Rose squeaked in surprise. She was vaguely aware of a line of cream gathering on her top lip. “Whatever for?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Evaline tilted her head, thoughtfully, “for making Scorpius happy, for one thing.”</p>
<p>Rose nearly snorted her drink out through her nose. Evaline eyed her, inquisitively.</p>
<p>“Sorry, it’s just, er, most days we seem to drive each other crazy.”</p>
<p>Evaline chuckled, knowingly. “I think there’s very few things that Scorpius Malfoy enjoys more than being driven crazy.”</p>
<p>Rose didn’t really know what to say to that, so she focused her attentions on draining the last of her coffee and tried to ignore the heat that crept up the back of her neck. “You seem awfully fond of him,” she muttered, eventually.</p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely,” Evaline nodded, vehemently. “Scorpius is one of my oldest friends, we’ve known each other as long as I can remember. He’s one of the few things about my childhood that I actually have pleasant memories of.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“The frogspawn incident, notwithstanding, of course.” Evaline laughed. “I would often spend weekends at Malfoy Manor, before I started at Beauxbatons. Scorpius and I used to have all sorts of adventures – thousands of games of hide and seek, waging war on the peacocks, that sort of thing. He’s a year or so older than me, but he never seemed to have a problem with that, unlike the other boys we were friendly with. We remained close as we grew older… in fact, he’s one of the few people who I think truly knows me, or whom I trust to truly know me, at least.”</p>
<p>Rose was fairly fascinated. Her mind reeled, trying to reconcile the version of Scorpius that Evaline described with the man she knew for herself. Although they’d had something of a breakthrough recently, after he’d sought her out and apologised in the Ministry Archives, Rose still struggled to imagine a reality in which he wasn’t frequently grumpy, occasionally insufferable and generally acted superior to everyone around him.</p>
<p>And then, Rose had another thought…</p>
<p>“I, er… I understand there was an arrangement, between your two families? That you might have been married, yourselves, if… if I wasn’t in the picture?” Rose fidgeted with her napkin, and tried not to sound <em>too </em>curious.</p>
<p>She was still at a loss for why Scorpius wouldn’t have preferred to go along with such an arrangement, rather than drag her into their uncomfortable alliance. Surely, if they were such good friends, a match with Evaline would have been the perfect solution. All he’d told her was that he wasn’t Evaline’s type….</p>
<p>Maybe she didn’t like blonds, Rose mused.</p>
<p>Evaline smiled, rather enigmatically. “I wondered if he might have told you about that… but, then again, why wouldn’t he? You’re about to become man and wife, after all.” She carefully set her coffee cup down on its saucer and looked up at Rose, her expression wary. “Did he… tell you anything else? Like, for instance, that such an arrangement would have been very problematic for me?”</p>
<p>Rose quirked an eyebrow. “I believe he used those <em>exact</em> words, come to think of it.”</p>
<p>“Hmm, and then probably didn’t elaborate any further, leaving you with far more questions and a burning sense of intrigue, correct?”</p>
<p>“Correct.”</p>
<p>Evaline shook her head with a knowing smile. “Merlin, he really doesn’t understand women half as well as he’d like to think, does he?”</p>
<p>Rose mirrored the other woman’s grin.</p>
<p>Evaline leant forward again, bringing her elbows to rest on the table edge, her hands clasped beneath her chin. She studied Rose for another moment, who simply blinked back, her expression carefully blank, and wondered exactly what it was that Evaline was hoping to find – or not to find – by scrutinising her so.   </p>
<p>“I trust Scorpius, whole-heartedly,” Evaline said, at last. “And he, obviously, trusts you with <em>his </em>whole heart, and that’s good enough for me. As I said, I feel immensely grateful to you – not just for making Scorpius happy, although that is, of course, very important to me – but for essentially standing in the way of this so-called arrangement between our families. You see… I am already very much in love with someone whom my family is not aware of, and that is because they – or, more specifically, my exceedingly conservative father – would never approve of the match.”</p>
<p>Rose felt her eyebrows leap upward, to hide behind her fringe. “I…I see. That sounds… very difficult.”</p>
<p>“More than you know,” Evaline sighed, softly. “Scorpius has been my confidante for many years, as I said. He was aware of my… situation, and had always promised me that he would do everything in his power to keep the negotiated union from going ahead.” She smiled, fondly. “I have no idea how he planned on doing that, but luckily for the both of us, I suppose, he met you before it ever became an issue.”</p>
<p>Rose swallowed, thickly. “Yes…lucky, indeed.” She stared down at her empty cup. “May I ask… <em>why </em>you think your father wouldn’t approve? You must know that my mother is Muggle-born, and yet, Scorpius’ parents’ have been nothing but welcoming to me.”</p>
<p>Evaline’s smile turned rueful. “If only it were so simple.”</p>
<p>Rose couldn’t imagine anything <em>less </em>simple than the centuries old arguments, family divisions and multiple wars caused by the concept of blood status and magical entitlement, but she held her tongue.</p>
<p>“I’m not saying that my father would be entirely thrilled at the concept of my marrying a Muggle-born,” Evaline continued. “The Malfoys are somewhat unique when it comes to their total reversal of allegiances in recent years; something, I’m sure, which has much to do with Mr Malfoy’s experiences during the war. I’m sure my father still holds certain…<em>notions</em> about blood status to be true, although he’s wise enough to keep them to himself, these days. But my situation is a little more complex than that.”</p>
<p>She moved to pour them both another cup of coffee, but Rose politely declined. This seemed like the sort of conversation one ought to have their full wits about them for, and she could already feel the distracting caffeine buzz tingling in her fingertips.</p>
<p>Evaline sat back in her seat and pursed her lips, turning to look across the terrace as she ruminated over her next words.  </p>
<p>“I was fourteen…” she looked down at her clasped hands with a gentle frown, “when I realised that I wasn’t like the rest of my school friends, who would have gladly snapped their wand in half if they thought it would get a boy’s attention. At first, I couldn’t reconcile myself with what I thought might be happening… I even threw myself on Scorpius once, demanded he kiss me in the gazebo down in Narcissa’s rose garden, you know the one…” Her eyes creased at the corners and she shook her head. “He was really rather shaken up by the whole ordeal, and it did absolutely nothing for me, of course. One of my dormmates, Felicity, on the other hand… she was all I could think about for the better part of fifth year.”</p>
<p>Rose’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Evaline laughed at her startled expression, and Rose felt her cheeks warm.</p>
<p>“My girlfriend, Justine, and I have been happily committed to one another for over five years now. We rent an apartment together in Paris and my parents think she is simply my very good friend…” A shadow flittered across her face, even as she forced a smile.</p>
<p>Rose felt a wave of something, as she watched Evaline sip at her coffee and hide behind her resolve. She thought of her Uncle Charlie who, Rose knew, had eventually come out to his family and friends and married her Uncle Stefan almost three decades ago. Even he had battled reservations, Rose’s dad had once told her, about finally sharing who he truly was with his family, when the Weasleys – if the recent introduction of Scorpius was anything to go by – were almost universally accepting of anyone that one of their own chose to love. Rose simply couldn’t comprehend what it must be like for someone, to legitimately fear a blanket rejection from their family, or worse… condemnation.</p>
<p>Instinctually, Rose felt her hand shoot across the table, till it gripped Evaline’s, resting against the pristine white table cloth.</p>
<p>“I… I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine —”</p>
<p>But Evaline waved her off with a graceful hand. “Don’t be,” she smiled and squeezed Rose’s fingers in reciprocation. “I’ve come to terms, long ago, with the fact that my family are unlikely to ever accept me for who I am. I’m very happy with my life, and what I’m making of it. Although, that could have been an awful lot different if it weren’t for Scorpius,” she admitted.</p>
<p>“How so?” Rose stared.</p>
<p>“Well,” Evaline tilted her head and smiled, wistfully, “he was the only one I ever told… until I was much older. I rather broke down on him, after that disastrous kiss, and it all came out of me in this blubbering, weeping mess. Everything I’d been agonising over… my worries, my desires. For a sixteen-year-old boy, he handled it all remarkably well. He made me feel like I had nothing to be ashamed or afraid of… and, of course, he was right.” She smiled again and, this time, it lit up her entire face. “So, you can see why I’m really rather fond of him, and why I’m equally delighted that he’s finally found someone to love for himself.”</p>
<p>Rose felt a heavy weight drop into her stomach, and she forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.</p>
<p>“Now,” Evaline released her hand in order to reach for the menu, and grinned across at her, wickedly, “how about we occupy ourselves with less serious matters and make the most of this incredibly tempting wine-list?” </p>
<p>Rose sat back in her seat, only half paying attention as Evaline educated her on the various alcoholic offerings and beckoned the wait-staff over for further discussion about the origins of their house Merlot.</p>
<p>Her head was simply full of new information. It buzzed between her ears and sent her inner monologue into overdrive.</p>
<p>She thought of Scorpius, who she’d left, brooding, in the flat that morning. She thought of his refusal to even entertain the idea of a marriage pact with Evaline and what she now understood to be his reasons for doing so. She thought of a sixteen-year-old boy, who suddenly had the weight of the world thrust upon him by a confused, desperate fifteen-year-old girl, and yet still managed to say and do the right thing in such a seminal moment.</p>
<p>Rose felt the unwelcome realisation like a shock of cold water. It was thoroughly sobering, she thought, to have to acknowledge that you might have been wrong about someone.</p>
<p>The possibility that she may have inaccurately demonised Malfoy had been creeping up on her for some time now – really, ever since they’d started trying to co-operate, but spurred on by seeing him so at ease amongst her family, and when she’d found she rather enjoyed hugging him, of all things. Now, hearing Evaline’s account of him growing up and the bond they still shared, she felt the last of her previous assumptions dissolving, trickling out of her ears, leaving her with an uncomfortable sense of vertigo.</p>
<p>That glass of wine couldn’t come soon enough.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Rose eventually made it home well into the afternoon, her head still full of thoughts, and her stomach full of three glasses of wine. She’d taken the public Floo to Chalk Farm tube station and walked the short distance to her flat, pausing just inside the front door to take in the sight in front of her.</p>
<p>Scorpius was laid flat on his back, his head and shoulders lost within her fireplace, as he muttered and cursed and jabbed at various things with his wand. His white t-shirt, which had risen up to just above his navel, was covered in soot and Floo powder stains, and there was a fair amount of similar debris on the surrounding rug.</p>
<p>Rose leant against the back of the sofa, her eyes drawn a little too easily to that exposed strip of skin, the outline of his obliques, before clearing her throat. Scorpius flinched and jolted upright, cracking his head on the underside of the fireplace and swearing loudly.</p>
<p>“Mother of Merlin, Weasley!” he cursed, rubbing the top of his head and glaring at her from within the fireplace. “I’m fairly sure it’s illegal to sneak up on a man like that.”</p>
<p>Rose pressed her lips together to restrain her laughter. “And, just what do you think you’re doing, poking about with your wand in there?”</p>
<p>Scorpius quirked one eyebrow, looking very much like he wanted to make something of an innuendo, but thought better of it. “I told you I was going to try and fix it. It’s either a faulty location tracker, or the Locomotion Charm has somehow gone haywire, but I’ll be damned if I know what to do about either.”</p>
<p>He picked up a rag to dust off his hands, wiping a stray soot stain from his forehead. Rose recognised said rag as one of her few existing tea-towels and wrinkled her nose.</p>
<p>As annoying as the destruction of her tea-towel and her living room rug may have been, Rose was still rather pleased to come home and find him in reasonable spirits. She’d feared that, if the last few weeks were anything to go by, she might return to find all the curtains drawn, Celestina Warbeck’s greatest tear-jerkers on the radio, and Scorpius with his head in her oven.</p>
<p>Instead, apparently, he’d been making himself <em>useful</em>.</p>
<p>Scorpius was still prattling on about her fireplace, scowling at it, as if it might somehow feel the full wrath of his disdain, and muttering about cowboy Floo installers and dodgy charm-work, but Rose wasn’t really listening. She was thinking hard about everything she’d learnt from Evaline that afternoon, trying to mentally fuse the two versions of Scorpius together. Her grumpy – albeit sometimes funny – pompous work nemesis and Evaline’s playful, emotionally supportive childhood friend.</p>
<p>She supposed she occasionally caught glimpses of that <em>other </em>Scorpius. When he let his guard down and she was met with one of his grins or that twinkle in his eye. Or when she was really at her lowest, and he made it his business to seek her out, rally her, to make her feel better about herself…</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Rose blinked, startled, and realised he was staring at her with a rather quizzical expression on his face. “What, what?” she replied, rather eloquently.</p>
<p>Scorpius frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re not going to hug me again, are you?”</p>
<p>Rose gaped at him, outraged. “You should be so lucky!”</p>
<p>“It would just be nice to have some warning next time, that’s all,” Scorpius stared down his nose at her in return.</p>
<p>She huffed, then, and turned to stomp off in the direction of the kitchen, in search of that fourth glass of wine. Scorpius sloped in the doorway behind her.</p>
<p>“Oi, aren’t you going to say thank you for fixing your blasted Floo?”</p>
<p>“Did you actually fix it?” she scowled at him over her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Well… no,” he considered.</p>
<p>“And were you <em>attempting </em>to fix it for my approval?”</p>
<p>“<em>Definitely </em>not,” he rolled his eyes, theatrically.</p>
<p>“Well, then, I hardly see why I should be thanking you —” She spotted the sly slope of his smirk and caught herself just in time. He was messing with her, she realised. Winding her up, ribbing her, as if they were friends.</p>
<p>“You’re a pest, Malfoy,” she muttered, clucking her tongue against her teeth in annoyance, even as her lips quirked up to mirror his. “I think I preferred it when you were depressed.”</p>
<p>Scorpius chuckled then, closing the distance between them just in time to steal her glass on its way to her mouth and take a hefty gulp of her wine. Rose simply shot him an exasperated look, as he leant back against the cupboards, and reached for another glass.</p>
<p>“Now, now, Weasley,” he nudged her shoulder, gently. “We both know you’ve missed my sunny disposition and charming bedside manner these last few weeks.”</p>
<p>Rose snorted, her mouthful of wine threatening to make an abrupt reappearance out through her nose. “Why aren’t you, by the way?”</p>
<p>Scorpius side-eyed her. “Why aren’t I what? Salazar, Weasley, are you drunk? You have all the eloquence of an uneducated troll this evening.”</p>
<p>Rose ignored him. “Why aren’t you <em>depressed</em>? When I left here this morning you seemed on the brink of an existential crisis.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” he muttered, cheerfully, “I had two of those before lunchtime. Quite invigorating.”</p>
<p>“Malfoy, be serious!” <em>That </em>was something that Rose never thought she’d need to ask of him. “Did Hugo break in here and give you a lobotomy, or something?”</p>
<p>Scorpius’ grin merely widened. “Or something… actually, I received an owl from my mother...”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” Something about the way he was looking at her was making Rose feel incredibly uneasy.</p>
<p>“Yes… she mentioned how charming you looked in the Malfoy bridal gown.”</p>
<p>Rose’s head spun so fast on her neck it was a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash. “She told you about that?!”</p>
<p>“She did.” Scorpius’ shit-eating grin was threatening to engulf his entire face in one fell swoop. “There were even photos…”</p>
<p>“There were <em>not</em>!” she gasped in horror.</p>
<p>“Alright, no, there weren’t. But her vivid descriptions were quite enough to pull me out of my funk, kicking and screaming.”</p>
<p>“Oh, sweet Helga,” Rose groaned into her hands, as Malfoy cackled beside her. “I can’t <em>believe</em> she told you!”</p>
<p>“And I can’t believe you actually put the bloody thing on! I’ve seen my parents’ wedding portrait, that dress is hideous. Not to mention, it could have had any number of curses —”</p>
<p>“Well, I chose to assume your mother might have had it checked for Dark magic, already, and wasn’t about to let me burst into flames or whatever in the middle of Madame Malkin’s shop floor!” She jabbed him in the side with a finger, which only served to make him laugh louder. “Stop laughing at me!”</p>
<p>Malfoy attempted to bat her away, even as he bent double, creased over in the middle by his burgeoning laughter. Rose continued her onslaught of sharp, straight-fingered jabs between the ribs, trying to aim for all the vital organs.</p>
<p>“Malfoy, stop it!”</p>
<p>He merely shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. “You stop it! And why are your fingernails so bloody sharp?! It’s like being mauled by ten knife-wielding Bowtruckles!”</p>
<p>The more he laughed, the more she jabbed, until Scorpius had to squirm away. But there was nowhere to go, trapped against the cupboards as he was, and so in a fit of desperation, he grabbed both of her small hands up in his and spun them, till their positions were reversed. Rose’s back collided with the sideboard, one of Scorpius’ feet wedged somewhere between hers.</p>
<p>“Where’s my wand?” she shrieked. “I need to Obliviate the both of us, right this second!”</p>
<p>Scorpius’ shoulders shook with mirth. “Merlin, woman, will you just keep still!”</p>
<p>Suddenly, Rose found herself quite reliably pinned, as Scorpius took each of her hands and fixed them at either side of her, against the cupboards. He crowded in on her with such an unexpected glint in his eye that Rose entirely stopped resisting and just stared up at him, her own gaze wide and blinking.</p>
<p>And then, in a move even more baffling than the position they currently found themselves in, Scorpius leant in and planted a chaste kiss amongst her auburn curls.</p>
<p>Rose’s breath caught, somewhere in her throat.</p>
<p>“What…” She felt unexpectedly taut and alert, as she stared up at his lopsided grin. “…was that for?”</p>
<p>He shrugged, lightly. “For putting up with my mother. You made a slightly neurotic woman very happy today, it seems. And, I know none of this was what you signed up for.”</p>
<p>“Your mother isn’t neurotic, she’s just… your mother,” Rose mumbled.</p>
<p>“If you say so.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes at him, then – which only served to make Scorpius’ grin widen – and, just for a second, Rose would have sworn that she saw his gaze flick down to her lips.</p>
<p>The hairs on the back of her neck sprang to attention.</p>
<p>Rose became acutely aware of the warmth of his hands, where they gripped each of her wrists, as the air around them seemed to grow unnaturally still. She didn’t dare move, her feet rooted to the floor, her eyes rooted to his face… her heart thumping quickly enough that it more than made up for it.</p>
<p>The faintest echo of an idea – like the inner voice that tells you to stick your hand in an open flame, just to see how hot it is – suggested she climb onto her tiptoes, close the little remaining distance between them…</p>
<p>But, with her next breath, the moment was gone. Almost as quickly as it came.</p>
<p>Scorpius broke the spell with another good-natured grin before he stepped away, his hands releasing hers, and moved towards the living room with such an unhurried, casual air, that Rose was left feeling as though she’d imagined the entire thing.</p>
<p>She almost certainly had, she reasoned… I mean, there was no way… He wouldn’t… <em>they </em>wouldn’t…</p>
<p>She swallowed, clumsily.</p>
<p>Scorpius’ head poked back around the kitchen door, silver blond strands falling over his brow, and Rose nearly jumped out of her skin – the glass of wine at her elbow narrowly avoiding an introduction with the floor.</p>
<p>“Are you just going to stand there, Weasley, or are you going to help me clean up this gigantic mess I’ve single-handedly made?” He fixed her with another retort inducing smirk.</p>
<p><em>Merlin</em>, help her, Rose thought – huffing a slightly shaky sigh out through her nose – this man was going to be the death of her, one way or another.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Rose &amp; Scorpius hit the books (again), play hide &amp; seek, and struggle with the realities of sharing a bathroom.</p>
<p>Keep those comments coming - they make my day! ET.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>